


Shackles

by LadyInStarlight



Series: Shackles [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: 18+, Abuse, Alastor Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Anal Sex, Angel Dust Being Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust-Typical Sexual Content (Hazbin Hotel), Angst, Asexuality Spectrum, Biting, Blood, Bottom Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Choking, Complete, Drama & Romance, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Horny Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Hurt Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jealousy, Kink, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Manipulation, Masochism, Misunderstandings, Non-Consensual Groping, NonAromanticAlastor, Possessive Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Protective Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Rimming, Romance, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sex, Spanking, Swearing, Tentacle Sex, Top Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Toxic Relationship, acespectrumAlastor, radiodust - Freeform, toxic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28732980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyInStarlight/pseuds/LadyInStarlight
Summary: Angel is mortified when Charlie approaches him and suggests that maybe his...flirtations...are making Alastor uncomfortable. Naturally, he stops. After all, there’s nothing more embarrassing than chasing a man who isn’t all that into you. Alastor doesn’t take kindly to being ignored. Smut ensues. 18+ mxmTrigger Warning: The fictional relationship portrayed is an extremely toxic one. Please be advised this relationship is realistically not healthy and is, on many levels, abusive. If this will be a trigger for you please avoid. I will say, there is a whole lot of love there amidst all their nonsense and power games. And I tried to imbibe hope as well.
Relationships: Alastor & Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), RadioDust
Series: Shackles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2201181
Comments: 467
Kudos: 512





	1. Shackles

Author’s Note: Hello readers! I apologize in advance for this smutty nonsense. Please heed all the warnings listed and don’t proceed if any of them squick ya. 

Trigger Warning:

There is a little bit of grabbing and groping that may make some readers uncomfortable. The consent to this behavior is dubious at best, but ultimately it stops and consent is affirmed before sex proceeds.

Regardless, remember if anyone manhandles you like this in real life it is absolutely not okay. 

That being said, if you are comfortable continuing, please enjoy.

______________________________

Angel Dust felt like such a fuckin’ idiot. 

All that boasting and he had nothing to show for it. Zilch. Nada. He’d wagged his ass, plumped up his tit fluff and used all the sexy lines he could muster, but that prissy bastard never caved. Not a lick. Not an inch. He felt like some sort of cartoon cat chasing a grinning mouse, except with even LESS sexual tension somehow.

Sure, he’d managed to get SOME negative attention— a grinning scowl once or twice, a scoff here and there, and maybe a couple eye rolls, but the illustrious radio demon never fucking caved. Angel was used to fellas throwing themselves at him, handing him fistfuls of cash to see what he had under the skirt, and this change of pace was just so…pathetic. Contrary to what anyone at the hotel might have thought after watching his wanton little displays for Alastor fail time and time again, he did not generally…chase fellas. He wasn’t some joke to be pitied. 

Men wanted him.

Usually.

“I just feel like maybe you should give Alastor a little more…space?” Charlie said, fussing with a bar napkin as she teetered on a stool. Her usual marionette features were pinched in a picture of awkward dismay. “You’re making him feel uncomfortable and…He—.”

Holy fucking shit. Was this really happening? Was Charlie seriously playing defense for that goddamn deer? Had Alastor asked her to intervene? He felt like the walls were closing in around him, as he tried to look…well…anywhere but at Charlie’s concerned face. He didn’t need to see that shit. He’d rather stare at that tacky red brocade wallpaper… even if it made him feel more trapped.

“Relax, toots. I won’t try chattin’ up the prude again” Angel said, cutting her off, flashing his biggest, toothiest smile. He knew one thing: when in doubt, deflect criticism with nonchalance and make a joke about the problem. He could feel a buzzing in the air, a strange hum of a radio tuning somewhere, growing steadily louder, the soft tap of light steps descending the staircase. Damn. He needed to hurry this shit along before that bastard got downstairs and saw him sitting around with Charlie, looking like some guilty kid being chastised by his mother. The fluff on his cheeks and chest was turning a pale shade of pink. The words spilled out, faster now, “I got plenty-a gentleman callers, ya know. I ain’t fuckin desperate. I wasn’t SERIOUS, just... playin around.” He glanced at Husk who was mixing a drink and probably pretending not to listen. He’d wait until after she left to ask for a double. “I’ll keep ta that “5 foot rule” he’s always bitchin’ about, so go on and tell him he’s safe from the itsy bitsy spidah. I ain’t even interested in him anyway.”

That should do it. He thought about bringing up that Alastor had led him on a little, but that would just sound… ugh. Deluded? Desperate? Gross? How could he explain to Charlie the way the Radio Demon grabbed and tossed him about? Alastor certainly didn’t follow that 5 foot rule of his. If he wanted to grab, spin, dip, or toss you around, he would. But Angel knew any argument he had on that front would be 90% bullshit. Alastor seemed to like control. He could touch you, but you couldn’t touch him.

And the way he touched Angel was nothing different or special.

“Oh thanks so much for being so understanding, Angel!” Charlie sighed in relief. Had she expected him to argue, to act offended and shit? Fuck, did she really think he’d crawl and simper after some uptight asshole? Her arms wrapped around him suddenly, all warmth and maternal affection, blonde hair all up in his face. “I told him I was sure this was just a misunderstanding—that’s just your sense of humor! I’m sure you’ll be best friends soon!”

Angel very much doubted that.

He watched, mortified, as Charlie pranced off to inform the radio demon of their conversation, sinking deeper and deeper into the bar stool. Could ya even sink into a bar stool? He felt like he was sinking for sure. “Husk…”

“Already got you covered.” The gravelly-voiced cat slid a glass in front of him with a flick of his tail. It was bright pink, something fruity and frothy but with a double shot of whatever alcohol it usually contained. Angel didn’t ask what it was, just grabbed the concoction and gulped it down. A sweet smack to the taste buds with a kick that made him gasp.

He liked Husk well enough. The fella exuded a nice gruff presence, if mostly from a drunken stupor. At least he was perceptive in his own way.

“I could fuckin kiss ya, Husky!” He forced a little flirtatious laugh, leaning over the bar to give the other man a nice peak down the front of his v-neck. Husk never seemed to mind the flirting. He never reciprocated, but always seemed to take it in stride with a detached amusement or even a fun little bickering comment. 

“Husker, my dear friend! How are you doing on this fine morning?”

The booming, staticky voice really shouldn’t have surprised him. After two months, he should have been used to it by now in all its transatlantic, overly enthusiastic glory. Unfortunately, it always managed to catch Angel off guard— make him nearly jump out of his skin. He wondered vaguely if it reminded him of the past… of the way respectable men in suits spoke when he was alive…all self important and refined. Fucking bastards. A clawed gloved hand steadied him when he jumped, the briefest touch to his waist that left his skin feeling hot, but the moment he looked down towards it, the hand was gone, flitting away as Alastor settled on the bar stool furthest from him, dagger-toothed smile never faltering from his lips. “I see our fellow resident has already set his sights on a new victim for his wanton unwanted affections. Ha! Ha! Ha! Better you than me, I’m afraid!”

He could shoot him. Really, he could shoot him. 

But he had to play nice. He was, after all, in the wrong here…

“Awe, Al, ya don’t gotta be so uptight,” Angel crooned, crossing his long legs and resting his chin delicately in his hand as he leaned over the bar. He gave Al a nice peak at his chest as he spoke, but Al’s eyes, those dangerous glaring eyes, remained fixed on his own. His smile never reached his eyes. “Don’t ya worry a damn bit. I didn’t know I was scarin’ ya so much with all my flirtin’ and teasin’. I won’t botha’ ya again. I got plenty-a sexy daddies who’d kill ta play with me, just thought it would be a fun story ta say I rode the radio demon’s dick. Ain’t no big deal.” He paused as Alastor’s sharp laugh smacked him. His eyes seemed narrower, the pupils distorted. The smile never left his face but the lines of his yellowing teeth seemed sharper— daggerlike. The air crackled. Had Angel said something wrong? Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up Alastor’s dick. Yeah, that was probably it. He continued on a bit more reservedly, awkwardly tugging up his top to hide the fluffy cleavage, feeling the Radio Demon’s eyes catch the movement. “Anyway, 5 foot rule from now on, aight? I won’t touch ya and ya won’t touch me and I won’t flirt with ya neither. Sorry I made ya…um…uncomfortable. Deal?”

He watched the way Alastor took a glass of dark liquor from Husk and drank it slowly, savoring the taste. Why wasn’t he responding? Didn’t the Radio Demon love making deals? The silence stretched. Angel squirmed. 

“Angel,” Alastor finally purred, setting down the empty glass and dabbing his mouth lightly with a handkerchief. 

“Y-yeah, Smiles?”

“If you ever talk about “riding my dick” again, as you put it SO very crudely, I will rip out your spine and make you swallow each vertebrae.” 

Well, fuck. He couldn’t fucking win, could he? “Yeah yeah. Sorry, Smiles... Won’t happen again.” Angel slid off the stool, feeling the uncontrollable urge to tug down his skirt suddenly. He could really use a little something… some kind of high. Val would give him something if he picked up a shift. “Anyway, let Charlie know I’m headin’ ta work if she asks.”

“Mmm, I thought it was your day off. Am I wrong? Already hankering for sin, Angel Dust? Miss Magne will be disappointed if she hears you are running off to your dealer/pimp for a cheap high.” Alastor’s words were light and mocking, but the shadowy hand that leapt out and grabbed Angel’s wrist was firm and a little painful, tugging him in until his back touched the bar and he found himself too close to the seated Radio Demon for comfort.

“Listen, handsome,” Angel purred, leaning towards he radio demon whose ears flicked back while his smile shifted from one with teeth to one of close-lipped disdain. He could feel the other man distancing himself already, leaning away as he leaned in. “I’m just doin’ us both a favor. I’m real fuckin horny fa dick right now and unless ya wanna take care of that, well, I suggest ya let me go ta work and leave Charlie outta my business. Got it?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just took the opportunity to bolt before Alastor recovered from his words. Mistah Val would be real happy with his work ethic that night, because he suddenly…really craved the stage where he was wanted, surrounded, and adored. 

-

Over the next week, he tried his best to ignore Alastor.

He kept his conversations with the Radio Demon simple and curt, he backed away from any impromptu musical numbers so as not to end up being dipped, grabbed, or spun by the Al’s overzealous theatricality, and he bit his tongue when any innuendos threatened to spill from his lips. He really tried, but there were moments when it really wasn’t his fault, when the Radio Demon teased him with a dad joke or appeared behind him out of nowhere and peppered him with light small talk. He usually managed to duck away quickly, but the fact that he was avidly avoiding the Radio Demon became more and more obvious to the point that Charlie started looking all pinched and concerned again. Not to mention, Alastor himself seemed…

Angel couldn’t get a read on how he seemed, but it was definitely off. 

“Ah, Angel Dust!” Seven days. It had been seven days. Angel hadn’t expected to be assaulted with a toothy smile the second he stepped out of his bedroom, but the moment he shut the door behind him there was Alastor, grabbing him around the waist, marching him down the hall, and prattling in that disarming way of his. “Just the man I wanted to see, though it seems I’m seeing more of you than I bargained for.” Al spun him around, manipulating him like a rag doll. “Really, there isn’t much fabric to this, is there? Walk with me. Walk with me. We have much to discuss.”

“What the fuck, Smiles. Mind ya own business! I’m goin ta work I’ll have ya know and I’m runnin’ fuckin late, so I don’t have time for whatever bullshit ya wanna chat about. I don’t need ta get ya fuckin approval on my outfit!” He used four arms to swat at Al, backing away as best he could in high heels. “Five foot rule, rememba’?” 

Al’s laughter filled the hall. His skin looked darker than usual, the faintest hint of a flush. His eyes seemed glazed. He laughed too loudly, moved too uncoordinatedly, and grabbed too feverishly. Was he…?

“Al, are you fuckin drunk—“

The sudden sharp turn into a dimly lit bedroom made Angel lose his footing. He was usually great in heels but the radio demon moved too quickly, too haphazardly, too dizzingly round and round. He might have fallen on his ass if Alastor hadn’t caught him and then unceremoniously shoved him towards a plainly made bed. The door slammed. A lock clicked. 

“A-Al, you’re scarin’ me—“ he whispered. Shadowy tendrils tugged at his shoes and clothing, trying to slide off pieces, but only managing to get his shoes. He smacked one when it went for his stockings under the booted heels. He had his limits.

Alastor removed his own coat calmly, rolling up his shirt sleeves. The Radio demon had a trim physique and very broad shoulders. Angel had not seen him without his coat on. Something about Al in just the dress shirt and rolled up sleeves felt strangely intimate.

A pause. 

The other demon moved closer, grin unwavering. Angel was taller… and yet suddenly he felt tiny. 

A week of mostly avoiding the radio demon had him quaking under the man’s mocking gaze. Why was he turned on? Al was just some red-obsessed smiling freak with a Karen haircut and yet… he kept remembering how he’d used those black tentacles of his to crush a blimp into scrap, the way he made the air sizzle, the way his eyes promised some kind of mischief.

Why had Al pulled him into his bedroom? Was he going to make Angel change or something? Was he going to eat him? Maim him? Was he really that pissed about Angel’s getup? Maybe tonight’s costume was a bit much, but Angel liked it. It was… sexy… kinda little bo peep meets stripper ho. The white corset he was wore laced over his stomach and stopped just under his chest, creating the illusion of a magnificent bust size. The skirt, a frilly scrap of white and pink lace, had a nasty habit of riding up over his ass at the slightest provocation. He hadn’t bothered with underwear.

“Listen, Al, I get that ya like bein all mysterious and intimidatin, but can I get some kinda idea of what ya want from me, cause— hnnnn,” Alastor pounced. The kiss tasted like spice and heat. All fire and tongue and hunger. Angel barely had time to mentally catch up to what was happening before pair of clawed fingers were combing through the fluff on his chest to find and pinch his nipples while another hand pulled his skirt up over his hips. “Woah…woah…wait! woah woah woah! Stop, Smiles! Fuckin’ slow down. I said Stop!”

Alastor’s face was hot, his eyes glazed and shuttering between dials and dilated pupils. He leaned away from the kiss just barely, hastily unfastening his pants. “Is there a problem, my effeminate fellow? I was under the impression you wanted this and as I am currently in …rut… as it were… I thought perhaps we could both benefit from a short and temporary little arrangement.” Al could use fancy words, but they tumbled out too quickly. He was a like a violin chord about to snap. Wait. Wait. Hold up.

“Ya thought… listen, asshole, I ain’t some fuckin pocket pussy. I ain’t always ready ta go and ya made it real clear ya weren’t interested… so maybe I ain’t interested anymore neither! Eva think about that?”

Al looked down between them at Angel’s unimpressively sized but desperately dripping cock, standing tall and obvious now that the skirt had been lifted over his hips. Angel followed his gaze and felt his whole body heat up. “That don’t mean I’m fuckin’ down fa this shit and you know it!” 

“Very well, mon cher. I will pay you. What is the going rate?” Al sat back, stroking a hand through Angel’s chest fluff idly.

“Don’t wanna.” Angel wiggled and writhed out from under the baffled Radio Demon and straightened his outfit. “Go find someone else ta take care of ya weird deer shit. I got a numba of big spenders waitin ta watch me dance and throw cash at my feet. Ya money ain’t any betta’ and neither is ya fuckin dick.”

“Angel, I don’t think you understand. I won’t make this offer again. You are welcome to go, but this is a one time chance.” A one time chance… Angel would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to take the offer. Seeming to sense his reserve crumbling, Alastor casually removed his cock from the confines of his prim and proper dress pants.

Holy hell. 

Angel sat back down heavily on the bed. 

The Radio Demon was…huge. The rod, large, pulsating, and gray in color with a reddish hued tip, looked like it belonged on a much larger demon. It was thick, intimidatingly so, and long. If he had a cock like that why didn’t he use it all the time?

Of course this fucker was hung like a horse.

“Fuck. Whateva. Fine.” Angel grumbled, reaching for the dick. He wanted to taste it. 

A tendril of shadow wrapped around his wrist. “No. No. On your stomach, now. Bottom up, if you please.”

“Ya serious, Smiles?” Angel crawled back onto the bed, awkwardly settling on his stomach, propping his soft white ass in the air. “Well, whateva’ ya want.”

There was a quiet rustle as Alastor moved behind him. A clawed hand cupped each round globe, spreading the cheeks apart. Angel was used to men …well, making a show of ogling his bits for the camera. It wasn’t like Alastor was the first to really take his time, but this felt different. It felt measured, uncertain, and calculated. The way the man’s hesitant, darting tongue teased the puckered hole and then gradually grew more insistent, pushing into it like a wet piston as lips closed over the outside, made Angel keen and shudder. Then, it stopped.

Angel glanced back at Alastor who seemed lost in thought, maybe a tad irritated, certainly sobered from the fog he’d been under. Whatever arousal the Radio Demon had before was…gone. Limp, as it were.

“Smiles, ain’t no problem,” Angel whispered, rolling onto his back. “If ya ain’t feeling it anymore, we can stop.” He offered his best winning smile to the Radio Demon, patting and tugging down the front of his skirt lightly to hide his disappointment. 

Alastor climbed over top of him, lips pressing against Angel’s throat briefly. “No. Give me a moment.” He said, wrapping Angel’s thighs around his waist. He looked down at Angel with sharp eyes, seeming to devour every feature, to dive into his soul. The eye contact. That was something new. Angel felt pinned to the mattress by those eyes.

Angel couldn’t help but giggle as he felt Alastor’s rod rise gradually between his thighs. “So that’s what does it fa da big bad Radio Demon? Ya like my eyes?” A hand slid around Angel’s throat, squeezing gently but firmly, a quiet threat. “Nnnn. H-hey, Al. Can ya…” He didn’t have to say it. The hand squeezed harder, claws digging into his flesh, just as the mushroom-shaped head of the meaty cock pushed inside him.

It hurt. Fuck it hurt. Breathless burning in his chest while a hot poker spread open his slutty hole. He tried to rock his body to meet each thrust, tried to put on his usual show of loud, fake moans, but it hurt so good and Al’s grip on his throat had loosened to let him breath, and fingers were pinching and rolling his nipples. 

He couldn’t focus on being sexy. He couldn’t focus on anything.

He was thrashing under Alastor, panting and whimpering, barely able to comprehend the strange husky words Alastor breathed into his ear. They sounded somewhat French. Soft little endearments in another tongue. 

“Ahhh hhnnn nnnn, Al. Ah.” The thrusts moved faster. His back arched and his ass tightened when they hit something magical inside him, brushing his prostate. “Fuck. Ahhhh.”

He came between them with a desperate little moan. 

Alastor continued well after. When he did finish, Angel was surprised to find his ass filled with hot cum. The final, powerful thrust and groan caught him off guard, as did the jizz overflowing from his hole. Sure, plenty of dudes wanted to raw dog him and then cum in his ass, but he generally didn’t allow it unless he absolutely had to. He felt…claimed? He hadn’t even thought to ask Alastor to wear a condom. 

The Radio Demon slid quietly out of him and began dressing immediately. Cold. Distant. Out of reach.

“So uh…is that eva gonna happen again. I mean, no pressure. It just wasn’t half bad for a sloppy fuck and I wouldn’t mind another go at it.” Angel said, reaching for his skirt while Alastor rigidly sat, already fully dressed, with his back to him. “I mean, I know you said it would be a one time deal,but…”

A short burst of laughter. “Ha! No. This was merely an unfortunate lapse in judgement caused by untempered hormones. I do hope you will keep this little… mistake quiet.”

Mistake? Well fuck you too. 

“No problem, Smiles. It’ll be our dirty little secret.” He felt, rather than saw, Al shooting him a sideways glance. “Ha! Looks like I’ll hafta change into clean getup fa work. We made a mess of this.”

Alastor went very still. He seemed to be calculating something in his head. He turned and looked at Angel, climbing on top of him and pushing the spider demon back into the mattress. “Then again…I suppose this may prove…beneficial to continue… with certain terms and conditions, of course.”

Angel shuttered as hot lips trailed down his neck, teeth nibbling lightly. “Conditions? Like what? Listen, I really should get to work. Val’s gonna throw a fit.”

Claws dug into his hip. From the corner of his eye, Angel saw a stack of cash appearing on the nightstand, materializing from the shadows. The teeth and lips trailed down his chest. Alastor’s face buried into the chest fluff.

“Smiles? H-hey, the nipples are…. Nnn… sensitive. Stop bitin’. I can’t—“ 

The stack of cash doubled in size.

Oh. So that’s how Alastor wanted to play this.

“Fine, I’m listenin’” Angel grumbled. 

“Fantastic!” Alastor sat back, shadows twisting about him as green lights swirled around one of his hands. His grin was wide, half crazed as always. “Simply sign your afterlife over to myself and that should suit just fine.” 

“Ya seriously think I’d sell my soul ta ya fa sex?” Angel balked. “I ain’t that stupid. Besides, Val—“

“I can make all of that go away~ Your obligation to Valentino. Wouldn’t you like to be your own man again? To feel free? I won’t make so many demands on you, not as many as he anyway, and if you need a quick high,” a bag of glowing red dust hung in the air between them, sparkling and strange. “You will find I can provide that as well. What do you say?”

Angel hesitated. He didn’t know why the Radio Demon suddenly wanted to… fuck him…or to own his soul. He was fucking famous because of Val, for better or for worse. He was a star. Would Valentino let him leave? He doubted it. Maybe Alastor knew something he didn’t know. Maybe the radio demon had his ways. Maybe it was worth a try. The kisses were so intoxicating. Angel’s head was swimming.

At least there was a possibility he would be free…he could escape the abuse and the pain… among other things.

Would he be trading one gilded cage for another? Could Alastor even dissolve his arrangement with Valentino? 

“I don’t know. I—“ Another slow deep kiss. Spice and heat. He didn’t know how he ended up shaking Alastor’s hand. It just…happened. At least Al didn’t pull a bait and switch on him. At least the kiss continued. Al’s forehead pressed against his own. They both exhaled…Shuddering sighs.

The handshake felt like shackles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Updates and general nonsense, feel free to follow me on Twitter @LadyInStarlight


	2. Branding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel and Alastor obviously have trouble getting on the same page. Angel is constantly horny, Alastor is frustrated with Angel’s horniness, Charlie’s suggests Angel find a boyfriend, and Alastor’s jealousy and possessiveness flares up again.

Author’s Note: I couldn’t help it. Seriously, I couldn’t stop myself from making another chapter. Oh god, I’m so sick and depraved....well...whatever.

Trigger Warning: Alastor does insult Angel quite a few times in a manner that may be very triggering for some readers. His irritation with Angel’s past sex work is no reflection on Angel himself but comes from Alastor’s own insecurities about pleasing a very sexual individual when such things do not generally come as easily or often to himself. Still, while we may understand a character’s motivations for certain words and actions, and find it easy to eventually forgive the character these flaws, we must remember that in reality Alastor’s behavior would not be acceptable regardless of the circumstances. I can create a situation wherein the character learns and grows, or where ultimately there is a happy ending. Real life is not so simple, nor so contrived. There is also an element of unrestrained dominance and possessive behavior that is problematic. If that is upsetting or triggering for you, please steer clear.

For those who wish to continue, I thank you for joining. For those who cannot, may other kinks abound for you and may you come across something delectable.

Enjoy, my darlings.

_________________

Chapter 2

“Are you okay, Angel?” 

Angel turned his head dazedly and stared, dumbstruck, at the princess of hell for a few minutes too long. Okay? Was he okay? 

He didn’t know.

Over the past week, he had learned a whole fucking lot about Al and his “conditions”. Al didn’t want him fuckin other fellas. That much was clear. He seemed real fixed on that bit. Fuck, he’d even made it a point to take another go at eating out Angel’s asshole when the spider tried to argue. Needless to say, The Radio Demon had won that battle, if only because he started using teeth. 

The problem with Al was… he had a lot of fuckin unwritten, unspoken rules.

Don’t touch.

Don’t tease.

Don’t flirt.

Don’t beg.

Don’t ignore.

Not to mention the bastard was NEVER fucking horny. Sure, Angel had dreaded sleeping with his last sugar daddy, but he had been looking forward to having sex with the radio demon again. He should have known it would be a rarity. Other than that one…punishing rim job… Alastor hadn’t bothered playing his body like a piano in a full week. 

Three short bouts of nipple play, 15 kisses, five hugs and one smack on the ass in passing.

Angel’s body was on fucking fire.

It got real old, real fast. Never mind that Val hadn’t bothered him in days. Never mind that he could go galavanting through hell with his girl pal Cherri at any given moment and Alastor never seemed to mind. Never mind that the red powder Al gave him when he NEEDED drugs made a green neon smoke that caused Angel’s whole body to buzz with some strange, warm, delicious high he couldn’t explain. It felt like a Louisiana bayou, all green and hot and wet. 

The fact remained that Angel Dust was horny and his box of “work shit” had gone missing, disappeared right from his room in a flash. 

He wondered if maybe the weird waifu-obsessed fanboy or the clingy feet-focused anti fan had finally managed to steal his once beloved box of work shit. He might have been afraid some crazy stalker had found his living quarters, but worse things had happened in the past. Anyway, more than likely there was no nefarious stalker. Perhaps Nifty or Charlie had come across the box of unmentionables and chucked them, Nifty out of gleeful disgust at their probable filthiness or Charlie in some misguided attempt to help him find redemption.

Or maybe Alastor…

“Angel…” The anxiety in Charlie’s voice snapped Angel back to the present. Fuck. Why was this bitch always on his case? Maybe he should fuck with her— drive her away with some dirty talk nice and easy.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, toots! I’m fuckin swell... Just a little pent up, ya know? Really cravin some hot, fat dick afta quittin’ the porn biz…but I guess ya don’t unda-stand that cause ya spend all ya free time scissorin’ with Ms Vagina.” 

“What the FUCK, Angel!” Vaggie’s voice sounded like an air horn blaring behind him. Perfect. Now they could stop talking about his fucking mood. Still, perhaps he had gone too far. Charlie stood there blushing and stammering, uncertain how to calm her girlfriend down and also redirect the conversation in a way that would get them back on topic without the horniness paradox involved. Poor thing. She really was out of her league. Angel was a professional distractor. With a few saucy quips he could derail any serious conversation into nonsense.

That was how he liked it.

He had planned to make his escape while Charlie was gathering her wits about her and while Vaggie was comforting her oh so devotedly. Fuckin pathetic really. Not like he needed all that…moral support…and shit. He didn’t need someone to come to his aid at the earliest sign of slight to moderate discomfort. He could take care of himself. 

It would have been the perfect time to saunter off and sway his hips, all superior and saucy, but then a clawed hand clasped his shoulder and pushed him down into the seat while another settled comfortably on his hip, sliding subtly under the fabric hem of his skirt to rub gentle circles into the skin. The touch, so intimate and unexpected, made his thighs tremble.

Fucking asshole. 

“Hey baby~” he crooned, looking back at the Radio Demon and watching the other man’s too-wide toothy smile twitch in displeasure, ears flicking back ever so slightly. Fuck, it was like walking on fuckin eggshells with this guy. “Ya might not want ta be a part of this chat, Smiles. Fa real…all about me bein fuckin horny and wantin cock. Ohhh Husky, maybe YOU wanna chime in!” 

“Ha! Ha! Oh, Angel Dust. Is there never another thought on your mind? Surely you can’t be so very…frustrated in that manner... Constantly.” Alastor hissed the last word through gritted teeth. Well, lad-di-fuckin-da they couldn’t all be as unperturbed and impotent as the great and powerful radio demon. Angel planned to say just that when the speaker on the top of Alastor’s cane began to play a verse from a song that sounded…vaguely familiar: 

“I’m not one of the greedy kind,  
All of my wants are simple  
I know what’s on my mind  
I’m not resting until I find…”

Alastor slammed the head of the cane nonchalantly against the surface of the bar, shutting it up promptly. Well fuck, if they were gonna start breaking shit Angel wanted in on that action, but he wished Al had used that cane to smack him on the ass instead of making Husk jump 4 feet in the air and hiss. 

Vaggie and Charlie exchanged looks, bemused. 

“Ya oughta get that thing looked at… anyway, it ain’t my fault I’m goin through a dry spell.”

The slightest narrowing of Alastor’s eyes warned Angel to keep his mouth shut, but the radio demon did respond irritably. “You consider a week without debauchery a dry spell! Really, Charlie, I think our effeminate friend here might be a lost cause!” Alastor’s sharp little laugh sent shivers down Angel’s spine, particularly when coupled with the fingers lazily stroking his hip. If he stayed very still, maybe Al wouldn’t stop petting him. He just had to avoid bringing notice to it.

“Oh, well, um” Charlie laughed and fanned herself lightly with a bar napkin, taking the glass of water from her coaster and sipping it deeply. Of course she used a fuckin coaster. Perfect ass bitch. Fuck, he really did like her as a person… cheery thoughtful idiot. “Angel could always get a boyfriend.”

She looked pointedly between himself and Husk, who now seemed to be very focused on drinking from a green bottle that had “suddenly” appeared in front of him labeled “cheap booze”, manifesting from a cloud of smoke and shadow. 

“Angel!” Angel yelped as he was yanked, rather roughly, from the bar stool and marched swiftly away from the other hotel residents . “Haha! I had nearly forgotten what I came here for! Why don’t you join me. I had hoped to discuss tonight’s menu and I understand you are quite adept with Italian cuisine.” 

“Oh… I do make a mean fuckin’ sauce. Ya want a little kick ta it, right?” Angel started to say, but the second they were up the stairs and out of sight (and earshot) he found himself pressed against the wall, tasting those fiery spicy kisses. Kiss #16 felt like it might be going somewhere and he looped his arms around Alastor’s shoulders, responding eagerly and desperately with a dancing tongue and all the time in the world. “Al…”

“Why in hell’s name are you so obsessed with…pitching woo?” Alastor hissed as he wrenched back, lifting Angel’s little black skirt to reveal his crotch tenting the thin fabric of his underwear, cock already standing at attention after their sloppy kiss. “There are so many other interesting ventures! So many other ways to spend your time. And this… THIS… is what you always want.”

“Ya know… if ya hate FUCKIN me so much ya don’t hafta be da one ta do it. I can find anotha fella ta scratch that particula’ itch, Daddy. Or I can do it myself…with toys ahhhh ahh…hey!” Angel never could figure this fucker out. A long finger barely took any time to circle the quivering pucker of his asshole before Al shoved it inside him, swiftly followed by a second. They massaged the insides of his hole, scissoring and stretching while rubbing his prostate. 

Okay, fine. He would forgive Al for being a dick… just this once. 

“We had a deal, Angel.” The words, starting like the peppy clip of an old-timey salesman, took a sour, growling turn real quick. “This. Is. Mine. It is bad enough it has been… used so many times before.”

Oh. Oh HELL no.

“Listen here ya fuckin ahhhhh asshole! I ain’t ashamed of doin sex work and I ain’t ashamed of likin sex. It ain’t yer thing, fine, but don’ fuckin take all yer bullshit out on me. Ya know how many fellas would kill ta fuck me? Ya know how many men have thrown wads of cash at me just ta see me wag my ass? I’m a fuckin prize.”

Silence.

He was a fucking prize. Right? 

…Right…?

The fingers slid from his hole, leaving behind a hungry, quaking ache. He didn’t hold back the little moan that left his lips at the loss of contact. 

Alastor seemed…frustrated? Angel thought idly that the radio demon constantly seemed frustrated whenever he was involved. Should he just sink into the wall. Disappear? 

“Angel Dust,” Alastor breathed, the words a low, almost hypnotic command, said with that dagger-toothed smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You will not have sex with other men. You will not expose yourself to other men. Do you understand?” 

“Y-yeah.” Angel felt himself sinking into the wall. It wasn’t like he was dead set on finding just any cock. He wanted Alastor’s cock, though it sometimes seemed like admitting that would mean he’d never see the man’s dick again. “I-I understand.” 

A long silence.

“But, Smiles, now ya gotta hear me out. What about toys?” 

Alastor rolled his eyes, nose scrunching with disdain. How did the bastard manage to keep smiling through everything? 

“Pointless.”

“Fa you maybe. Pleasure is…well, it’s important ta me. Gettin’ off is important. Sex is…”

“Angel. Enough.”

“No, Al, I’m gonna say it ‘cause it’s fuckin important! If we wanna make dis whole arrangement work, ya gotta just let me do my thing. I won’t fuck otha dudes or whateva, but I ain’t gonna be all chaste and sexless until ya feel like touchin’ me. I got needs, ya know. I think I’m bein real good, Al. I know ya don’t like bein touched or flirted with or nothin like that. I know ya wanna be left alone sometimes and I would like if ya wanted me all da time like otha men! I know it ain’t eva gonna be normal… and ya don’t wanna go anywhere or do anythin’ fun eitha’.”

“Excuse me? Forgive my confusion, but are you now saying I am not FUN?” The radio demon looked exceedingly offended, hair bristling in the back like a particular breed of soccer-mom Karen. “I will have you know, my dear infamous slut, that I am respected and revered throughout hell. I have very many friends who quite dote on my company!” He was laughing as he ripped off Angel’s underwear, wrapping the spider demon’s thighs firmly around his waist and unzipping his own pants. “Without THIS being a requirement for a pleasant time.” The half-hard rod slid into Angel gradually, taking its time to stretch him out.

Fuck. One week without dick and he felt like a virgin again, tight asshole being split apart by what he could only describe as a half-hearted dicking. Angel shuddered and moved his hips down onto the large rod, back arching at the delicious pain and pleasure of being filled. Alastor looked…bored. Disappointed.

Fuck. Al wasn’t enjoying this. That fucking sucked. He hadn’t meant to upset him. Hell, he didn’t even fully understand what he had done this time to piss off the radio demon. 

Angel, flushed and panting already, bit back the moans springing to his lips, covered his mouth with one hand and suppressed the shudders. “Smiles, that ain’t what I meant. Hnn. It’s just, ya know, ya don’t eva spend any time with me outside da hotel, so…”

The fluffy red ears perked forward. Alastor’s back seemed to straighten, his smile seemed to broaden, and his thrusts…oh they picked up a nice rolling rhythm. “Ah an outing! What a fantastic idea, mon cher! Truly I had not even considered it, but now that you mention it I suppose I have done very little to assist you with your troublesome boredom. I myself suffer from complete insurmountable boredom from time to time and the need to cause untold viscous mayhem is certainly stronger then. It is no wonder you are constantly fixed on one particular thing.” 

“Al, seriously, yer view on fuckin ain’t great. If ya don’t like sex ya don’t have to… hnnn ahhh” Angel’s sentence was cut off in a muffle of whines and moans as clawed hands gripped his hips and slammed him down onto the large rod, plunging deeper. 

“It is not how I generally prefer to spend my time,” Alastor said, studying Angel’s distorted, pink tinted face, tears trailing down his cheeks. “But there is a certain view it offers that I quite enjoy! A view… I do not plan to share.” Angel tilted his head to the side, gasping as a darting tongue skated in looping figure eights over the nape of his neck, tugging off the bow tie with careful teeth and nibbling and sucking the skin eagerly. “We will have a little night out tonight. You will cancel whatever plans you’ve made with Berry.”

“Cherri. Her name is Cherri. Fuck, Smiles.” 

“What did I say?”

“I was gonna go out drinkin’ with Husk.”

“…Absolutely not.”

Angel screamed when he came between them. Really screamed. It was a sound that startled anyone in earshot— equal parts pain, pleasure, and shock. When Charlie and Vaggie found them, Alastor was dabbing his horrifically bloody mouth with a handkerchief and Angel was desperately trying to piece together his mental state, slumped and dazed on his knees at the Radio Demon’s feet. 

“Oh Angel…what did you do. Alastor, did he…make a move on you?” Charlie’s said, looking between them fretfully, seeming to take in the rumbled clothing, the ridiculous scene, and copious amounts of blood as evidence of an altercation. “Angel you promised you wouldn’t. And Al, I hate to say this but really did you need to resort to violence?” Charlie fussed over both of them, the picture of worry and disappointment.

“I didn’t. That ain’t what fuckin happened, Charlie. Fuck, tell her, Al…”

Angel glanced at the radio demon, waiting for the other man to explain in some fashion, to take the heat off him.

A slow mischievous smile met his. No way. No fucking way. He wouldn’t. Not now, right? “Oh, never fret Miss Magne! Rest assured I have put this lustful idiot in his place.” Dancing red eyes looked down at Angel Dust, kneeling at his feet. “And I think it’s a very fitting place for him.” 

He would have gotten up and clocked the smiling prick if there wasn’t cum running down his ass and the backs of his thighs. 

Instead he pressed the tattered fabric of his bow tie against the wound on his neck. It would heal soon enough. There were no lasting scars made in hell. Everything faded within a day or two.

But then why did this feel different.

He shivered as he watched Alastor croon and shmooze and smile. He watched him playing the ever-suffering gentleman in their little game of the handsome and the ho. He watched their eyes fill with pity for him and exhaustion. He watched them leave Alastor to bring Angel back to his room despite their own reservations about the idea. He watched as even Vaggie, distrusting glare never leaving her eyes, still stepped aside and accepted the charming lies. Alastor spoke fast. He moved fast. He smiled fast. He worked fast.

And Angel wanted to hate them for how little they thought of him, but he couldn’t. He was too hurt. When they were gone from the hall, he tried to stand and swatted at Alastor’s grabbing hands. “I’ve got it. Don’t touch me.” He said, backing away from the Radio Demon. Alastor seemed intent on ignoring his protests, scooping him up bridal style. 

“Enough.”

“I said don’t fuckin touch me!” He was yelling now, breath picking up, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’ll fuckin shoot ya. I swear ta god, I will. Put me da fuck down! Don’t fuckin touch me, ya good fa nothin smilin fuckin crazy bastard.”

Lips softly teased the mark on his neck. “Of course. Of course, Mon Cher, but are you absolutely certain?” A pause. “Of course I will put you down, but ARE you certain?”

“N-no,” Angel bit back the sob in his chest and forced it back down. Like hell he’d let this bastard see him break down. “Fuck, I don’t know.” He hid his face in Alastor’s shoulder, avoiding those confused but curious eyes. “Yer shit at fuckin afta care, ya know that?”

“Excuse me? What?”

“Fuck, Al…Just…just tell me I did a good job and that it’s all gonna be okay…”

A long pause.

“…Angel… you did a good job and… everything is going to be okay.”

They were moving. Angel could feel his body convulsing, trembling. He would not cry. “Tell me you’ll clear this up with Ch-Charlie so she doesn’t think…ya know. I-it ain’t fair. Just…”

Another pause. Briefer this time.

“Shhh shhh, my dear. I will speak to Charlie and I will clear up this whole debacle.”

Silence. Kisses peppered against his neck. They were in his room, climbing into his pink sheets. Alastor settled beside him. Strong arms. Warmth. Soft rhythmic breathing. He could hear Fat Nuggets stirring, oinking indignantly at the trespasser currently stealing his spot in the bed. 

“Tell me ya ain’t m-mad at me and that this bite ain’t gonna…scar.”

“…I am not mad at you.” Long fingers stroked languidly through Angel’s hair. “We will have our little outing tomorrow instead. You are too… overwrought today.. I think that will liven your mood. Remember, my dear, you’re never fully dressed without a smile.” Al smiled broadly at him, brushing his thumb over a tear trailing down Angel’s cheek.

Angel offered up a shaky little laugh and a sheepish smile.

“Charming,” Alastor whispered the word.

Angel’s smile spread. He felt…happy… Even though the love bite on his neck burned like a branding.

The love bite burned like a branding.


	3. Disobeying Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a pretty great night’s sleep with his Deer Daddy, Angel maybe...kinda... fucks up horribly.

Authors Note: -bloodshot, sunken eyes- Someone stop me. I can’t stop writing fanfiction. Oh my god. What is wrong with me. How have these trash babies wormed their way into my horny soul? I should wait a week or two to upload this...I shouldn’t post all this shit so close together. I should make ya’ll wait a little, but I can’t.

I have no self control. If you like it, please Kudos and Comment.

Your reviews make my heart soar like... I don’t know. I’m so tired. I think there will be spanking in the next chapter. I’m filth.

——————

Chapter 3

Alastor didn’t smile in his sleep. His face, so relaxed and serene, really caught Angel off guard, shadows flickering over his features in the dark. That fact that he had managed to wake briefly during the night in a moment when Al was fast asleep was…priceless. He wanted to touch the other man’s face, to pet the red fluffy ears, and to burrow into his chest…

But he also didn’t want to ruin the moment. 

The infamous radio demon without his trademark grin. A sight for sore eyes. What was it about Al that made him all giddy and dumb? He didn’t get it. 

He lasted three minutes before he finally caved and kissed Al’s sleeping lips. He thought he was going to regret his actions, that Alastor would get angry or cold all over again, but the radio demon thankfully returned his kisses and simply pulled Angel closer. 

Did dead hearts beat? He was certain he could hear Alastor’s heartbeat…or perhaps it was his own. They seemed to be beating on the same rhythm… in tandem.

Alastor wasn’t inside him and yet in that moment he felt closer to another person than he ever had before. 

“Mon Ange,” a raspy whisper. Alastor didn’t open his eyes as he spoke, just nuzzled his face lightly into Angel’s neck. “Rendors-toi, Mon Ange.” 

“Don’t wanna miss out.” Angel mumbled. The smile twitched back onto Alastor’s lips as he hazily opened a single eye. “No, Al. Don’t wake up. I don’t want anythin’ from ya… just…ya know…enjoyin’ the moment…havin ya here…is all. Wanna get my fill of ya till ya sneak off ta yer own room. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He shouldn’t have said that. That sounded so…Lame. Needy. Pathetic. 

A pause. Alastor closed opened eyes and sighed. “I will need to make some necessary adjustments,” he said offhandedly after a few moments. His eyes flitted around the room briefly in thought, seeming to come to one of his own little conclusions that he didn’t voice aloud. Angel just blinked in confusion. “Nevermind it. Go to sleep. I have no intention of sleeping elsewhere.” 

He wasn’t going to sneak away? Angel could feel his limbs go heavy as Alastor looped an arm back around his waist. 

He’d never slept so well in hell.

The Radio Demon had kept his word. Angel woke to that perky crazed smile and wild eyes staring down at him. No sooner had they climbed out of bed than Al was endeavoring to tidy up the room, dressing Fat Nuggets in a dapper little suit, and slipping out the door.

Angel didn’t know what Al had said to Charlie and Vaggie, but he was almost positive that it wasn’t the goddamn truth. When he came down the stairs for breakfast the following morning, hair still damp from his long soak in the tub, Charlie greeted him with a nervous little smile and a careful hug, promising him that if he needed to talk she would always be there to listen.

Fuck, what had Al told her? Even Vaggie gave him the sympathetic little nod of recognition and a sheepish not-smile-just-teeth thing, the kind of shit you offer to someone who is completely unhinged and who you want to be nice to but the entire situation is just too uncomfortable to bear. 

It was only after Angel slumped into a chair at the busted-up dining room table that Charlie began to speak in anything besides confusing sympathetic muttering. “Alastor, um… explained…the situation,” she said. “I’m so sorry we…immediately assumed… I’m sorry.”

Maybe Al had told her the truth after all. 

He felt his shoulders relax. “Nah. Don’t mention it, sugah. Smiles just likes ta play a little rough...”

That scrunched face again. All concern and confusion.

Nope. No more bullshit. No more misunderstandings.

“Listen, Charlie. I dunno what that arrogant, selfish bastard said ta ya, but I’m sick of feelin like some kinda horny nut job. He and I, we’re fuckin around. Got it? We got a weird thing goin on and he might try ta use all those pretty words ta make ya think I’m crazy, but I ain’t. He’s just likes ta lie and make me look dumb.”

“Oh…oh!” The realization dawned on Charlie’s face. If she had a lightbulb dangling over her head it might have started to glow.

“Well, that makes more sense,” Vaggie said, setting out a few plates of meager shitty food. “Congratulations, I guess? You know, it might not be the best idea to be in a… relationship…with the Radio Demon. But I’m sure you already know that. He’s not exactly boyfriend material, if you catch my drift. You can’t trust him.”

“I wonder why Alastor didn’t just tell us you two were dating!” Charlie mused, smiling faintly. “Oh, and he must have been jealous when I said you should get a boyfriend. That’s so sweet!” Her face lit up, all sunshine and rainbows.

“Nobody said nothin about a relationship.” Angel countered, blinking rapidly. 

“Oh, Al! Congratulations. Angel just told us.” Charlie started to say more, but Vaggie shot her a look. 

Angel went rigged. Before he could move to turn his head a pair of cool lips lightly brushed his cheek, long fingers squeezing his shoulders in a too-tight pinching grip. “My greatest apologies for all of the mistruths, Miss Magne. You see, I am not a man to kiss and tell! Ha ha!” His voice lowered, just a fraction. “Unlike my effeminate fellow here.” 

“Oh…fuck. Sorry Al...” Angel started to say, but Alastor’s gaze seemed to have softened… if only a little bit, his thumb briefly trailing over the black and blue mark still throbbing on Angel’s neck. 

“No no. I suppose this will make adjusting our accommodations far easier!” He purred. “Miss Magne, as there are a limited number of VIABLE rooms within the hotel and given that mon Ange does not do well when he is apart from myself, we will be sharing the room from here on out.

Alastor hadn’t asked him first…But Angel did want him there.

It was too soon… But for the first time in decades Angel felt like he’d actually…slept. 

He was becoming far too attached… But maybe it would be different this time.

They would drive each other crazy… But Angel was a messy Queen who thrived on drama.

Al should have asked him first… But Al OWNED him. 

It took him a while to realize three sets of eyes were watching his fuming, conflicted face. True to form, Alastor looked thoroughly amused with his inner turmoil. “Of course, ONLY if Angel Dust agrees to this little plot of mine.”

“Yeah…alright, Smiles,” Angel grumbled. “Ya gotta run this shit by me first”

“Mmm. What is the phrase the youth use nowadays? Ah yes. You, my dear, “outed” me today, so I shall forgive you your impertinence if you forgive me mine!” 

“Ya bit me on the neck and then tried ta convince everyone I was crazy. I told ya ta fix it. I don’t even want ta know what ya said ta them ta make them look at me like I was about ta break apart!”

“I simply told them that you and I got in a little disagreement and that I was utterly to blame for resorting to violence!” Alastor arched a brow. “Might I suggest the reason for their skittish behavior might be because you are looking exceedingly battered, my dear, and they perhaps felt guilty for taking my word over yours.” 

…

He would not admit that Alastor was right. He would not admit that he had never even considered that as a possibility. He puffed up his chest fluff and stood a little too quickly, patting down his tiny miniskirt. “I’m goin out.” He announced to no one in particular.

“Angel… it’s 8 am.” Charlie said softly.

“Yup!” He made a beeline for the exit. 

“Do not stay out past 6pm, Mon Ange, or I may be forced to come and collect you. Remember, we have a date tonight.” He could hear the threat underlying those words, could feel the chilling smile on his back. It made his fur stand on end…

And his heart do a somersault. 

-

Big guns. Big explosions. Big gossip. 

Cherri always could brighten his moods. Maybe he was opinion farming, but she always seemed to parrot his own mind back at him and make him feel better. They were a lot alike, his girl buddy and him, and the bitch made him laugh.

“So you just dipped out?” Cherri howled in glee as they leapt across rooftops. “Keepin the suits on their toes! Fuck yeah!”

Angel grinned and looked thoughtfully towards their hissing and yammering adversary, Sir Pentious, who kept making grand speeches between their fights. “Yo Snake Daddy, will ya shut the fuck up fa a sec. I can’t hear myself think!” An offended little hiss and stammer followed. He didn’t bother to listen closely. Angel looked back at his friend. “Anyways, Al and I got a date tonight.” 

“At least he’s willing to wine and dine you.” Cherri smacked an explosive egg out of the air right back at the panicking snake. “But seriously, Ange. You two are like polar opposites. What the fuck is his end game here? Why take up this whole Deer Daddy schtick. HE MUST WANT SOMETHING!”

“Got nothin’ but ass ta give, toots, and if he takes that it’s fine by me.” He sidestepped a series of bullets. “Ain’t worse than Val, that’s fa damn sure. He’s… I dunno… I don’t hate bein with him.”

“Oh, Ange…you got it bad.”

A well placed explosion sent their nemesis flying. Good timing. This turf war was starting to get boring.

“No way. Fellas fall fa me, not the otha’ way ‘round.” He settled comfortably on the ledge of a tall building, looking out over Pentagram City, a nightmare of Black and Red. Cherri sat beside him. “We’re real different. He’s all… uptight and complicated and shit. And I’m…”

“You’re fucking fabulous!” 

“Thanks, babes,” he chuckled softly. 

“Just…don’t get too attached, Ange. You know how these overlords work… They’re real selfish and real fickle. You don’t want to be in a bad position when he gets…bored.”

And wasn’t that why Alastor did anything?

Sheer. Absolute. Boredom.

“Yeah. Yeah. Ha! Yer fuckin right. Just gotta find a way ta get off without him involved.” He said placing, his hand over his chest with a flourish. “My heart is in my ass!”

“You wanna get laid?”

He paused and considered it. No…no he didn’t want anyone else. Weird. “Nah, but some real fun would be nice. Some sexy crazy fun!” 

“You didn’t follow all the rules when the rat-faced bastard was your Daddy~” Cherri grinned and waggled her brows. “Why start now?”

“Now yer talkin!” 

-

In hell, you could always find a way to waste time. Nightclubs, gambling and, of course, strip joints were a dime a dozen. They did body shots off a purple dragon, they snorted some laced coke that made them see stars, and they danced and danced and danced. 

He lost Cherri at some point. He thought he saw some prissy fella with a charred top hat gently carry her out, but his mind was hazy. He kept drinking, kept smoking, kept poppin pills, and kept snorting lines of coke. 

If he had been sober, he might have fled from the pink limo when it pulled up beside him. Instead, he continued his slow ambling pace along the sidewalk, trying to find his way back to the hotel. So many eyes everywhere. Eyes. Eyes. Eyes.

“Angel Cakes,” a deep rumbling voice, all husky and smooth, purred his name in a way that made Angel suddenly want to vomit. Valentino’s tall lean figure slipped out of the limo. “Well well well, what a surprise. How’s your new Daddy treating you?” 

“Fine…I’ve got…ta go,” Angel stammered. Everyone has a weakness and decades of familiarity had given Valentino, the oversized moth pimp, an insight into all of Angel’s worst habits. And if there was one thing Angel knew…it was to avoid Valentino when you were high, vulnerable, and alone. Those habits, those weaknesses, would be used against you. 

Silence. A quite assessment. A lecherous smile. Valentino’s hands on him. “I told him you would be a handful but he paid top dollar for you, Angel Cakes. More than your worth.” A hand guided Angel through a nearby set of double doors. Had he wandered to Valentino’s favorite strip joint? He’d walked right up to the lions den…“But we had a deal, baby. Made a little bet between us. You can still come back to Daddy.”

“No thanks, Val,” Angel tried to move away, but Vox was at his back, boxing him in with his giant fucking tv head. “I gotta…” The air smelled sweet. So many bright, flashing lights. The crowd swelled in rippling shadows, all buzzing with those delicious murmurs of anticipation. Eyes. So many fucking eyes. 

“Ha! Decades of devotion thrown away for what I do not know.” Val looked down at him with glowing red eyes, stroking his cheek thoughtfully. Slowly. “Baby. Baby. You’re a star. And really, you belong on a stage. Bright lights. The highest highs. And all those cheerin’ fans… What can radio do for you?”

What could radio do for him?

This world… this was all he was good for and it was intoxicating. He felt his heart hammering with the music, his mind bending with the deep sonorous song that left Valentino’s lips.

~“Come back to daddy.  
Daddy knows you. Daddy loves you.  
And Daddy won’t try to change you.

You want a man like him,  
But he’ll leave you on a whim.  
I’ll stay by your side.  
Been here since the moment I died.

You call me cruel,  
but baby I’m constant.  
You take me for a fool,  
But I treat ya decent.

He’ll get bored of you,  
With his ever-changin moods,  
And then where will ya be?  
On your knees beggin for me.

Why don’t ya do a little dance for daddy?  
Just for old times sake, I swear. 

Just a little dance ,  
and don’t those lights feel warm?  
Why not take a chance?  
I see your feelin torn.

Doesn’t it feel great to be,  
A queen of possibilities?  
And don’t you finally feel free?  
Dancing.  
Dancing for Daddy..

Dancing.  
Dancing for...Daddy”~

He knew the pole like the back of his hand. He knew the crowd, knew how to make them roar and swell. Twistin’. Swirlin’. Rockin’. Swingin’. Beat for beat. He had them on the edge of their seat. Skirt off. Tits out. Body writhing to the music. 

And then the club doors swung open.

———— 

Comment and Kudos if you enjoyed! ;D


	4. Blindfold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don’t break the rules, Mon Ange.
> 
> It’s punishment time.

Author’s Note: okay, so I know this is crazy but give me a break I had a four day weekend and a craving to write and write and write. 

Trigger Warning: Tentacles, Spanking, and Punishment Ahead. 

Kudos and Comment if you enjoy it!   
______________

Chapter 4: Blindfold

The first thing Angel saw was that smile— that ear-to-ear sharklike grin that didn’t reach the Radio Demon’s eyes. His eyes, sputtering between narrowed red orbs and ticking time pieces. The music pounding in Angel’s ears receded into the background and all he could hear was static. Sharp radio static.

He went still on the pole. The world seemed to melt around Alastor’s gracefully approaching figure. He watched, trembling, as a blur that must have been Valentino said something from his little throne in a private booth. Something taunting and superior, he could bet, but he couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything clearly. He couldn’t see anything but the edge of the stage, the pole, and Alastor.

He felt the eyes shift towards him. All eyes. Alastor’s eyes. “Angel Dust, don’t mind me,” Alastor said in his laughing radio host voice as he took a seat in a tall chair, crossing his legs confidently and steepling his long fingers. The second half of the sentence was spoken in a lower octave. It left little room for discussion, “Finish your dance, Angel.”

Finish your dance.

Finish your dance.

Fuck, his thighs were shaking. He didn’t understand why. He had done this same routine a thousand times before for so many people. So many eyes. He had danced high and low, but it never made him feel so hot. Alastor was watching him. Alastor was angry and he was watching him. 

Dancing for Daddy suddenly felt … a whole lot sexier. 

And a whole lot more dangerous.

He danced, Alastor’s eyes on him, following every twist and sway. Had Al seen him dancing before? Somehow he imagined old songs, shimmying hips, a bungalow with antique wooden furniture. The briefest kiss of a memory he couldn’t quite place, one he wasn’t sure was real. 

No. No it couldn’t be. The Radio Demon was in his head…and he was high. 

That was it. 

He crawled on the stage towards Alastor. His throat had gone dry. The anger… the anger there scared him. “Punish me, Smiles,” he pleaded in a whisper, not sure where the urge came from. He moved away, working the crowd. Hands reached, clawing for him.

Valentino’s lips twisted into a scowl as the crowd began to howl. Angel knew how to strut, and with his current flushed cheeks and glazed eyes he looked… incredibly fuckable. The Radio Demon’s confidence was… irritating. Angel was dancing in his club, so why was the damn dear so fucking cocky. 

“He looks fantastic tonight!” Vox said, throwing wads of cash towards the dancing spider. “Seems the Radio Demon got him all hot and bothered. Stupid bet. You won’t be able to get him to sign anything within the month with your usual schtick. Alastor is going to be on his ass like white on rice.”

“Stop wasting MY money,” Valentino snarled, punching towards his boyfriend’s wide screen face. “Angel Cakes is club property, or he will again soon enough. Might as well just hand me the cash directly, baby.”

“It’s my money,” Vox started to say but went silent when Valentino shot him a look that threatened violence. He didn’t need another cracked screen.

And then it happened. Shadows slithered onto the stage in a mass of black tentacles. They seemed to come from all directions, and yet the source was apparent. A glowing, wide smile and wild eyes. They looped around Angel’s body in slippery ropes, smacking away any customer who dared to reach towards him. No touching. No getting too close. Property of the Radio Demon.

They would get a show. 

Angel gasped as a pair of appendages secured around his thighs while another, thicker object pressed between the round globes of his ass, rubbing deliciously against his throbbing little hole for all to see. Several smaller ribbons squeezed around his cock and balls, massaging along the length. “A-al?” He started to say, but the moment his mouth opened another tentacle wedged itself down his throat. “Mmm nnnhhh.” 

Oh fuck. Oh fuck this felt so good.

And then came the SMACK. He hadn’t expect an unseen appendage to slap his bare, exposed ass just as another burrowed itself into his eager little hole, but the whipping made him lurch forward, his eyes roll back, and his back arch. 

It kept coming. SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. Each swat coordinated with a deep thrust. It hurt. His skin burned. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He felt like he was going to burst.

He’d been fucked by a lot of fellas, been in a lot of pornos, and done a lot of sick, depraved shit, but when Alastor was involved everything felt…heightened. He could only focus on sucking the slippery shadow fucking his throat, rocking back on the thick length plunging into his hole, and thrusting wildly against the teasing little extras stroking his cock and squeezing his balls. 

The pleasure. The pressure. It all kept mounting. He couldn’t stand it. 

Those strange eyes never wavered from him. That smile only widened when he began sobbing around the tentacle in his mouth, spreading his thighs to let the rod fuck him deeper, propping up his ass to let the whip come down more. More. More. Harder. 

And then the song ended.

The tentacles receded as quickly as they had come, depositing him into a hard, panting, dripping heap on the stage. No. 

No no no.

The Radio Demon stood smoothly and turned his back to the stage, moving quietly towards the exit, each step a buoyant bounce. “Well, thank Lucifer that business is done. Come along, my dear.”

“Al, please. No. I can’t…” Angel slid off the stage with effort, stumbling after the Radio Demon on legs that suddenly seemed like jelly. Alastor stopped, watching silently as Angel collapsed in front of him, glassy eyed and desperate. “I’m sorry. Please fuck me. Please. C-come on, Daddy. Please.”

His brain felt like some broken shattered thing. All he wanted was Al’s cock. So badly. So badly. Those tentacles…touching everywhere. 

And there was something else too— a deep familiar need. Raw and desperate, a remnant of another time and place. Something old. Something strange.

Strong arms picked him up, wrapped him in the Radio Demon’s cloak, and carried him towards the exit. “Ah we can finish your punishment some other time, Mon Ange.” Alastor looked back at Valentino and Vox with those strange mocking eyes.

Checkmate.

-

“Why did you break the rules?” Alastor’s voice was clipped, devoid of playfulness when they slipped into the limo. He pushed Angel out of his lap roughly and tossed the spider demon a water bottle. Angel bit back his hurt and closed his eyes, focusing on taking little sips of the water and sinking into the seat. If he looked out the window, the world became a sickening swirl of maroon. 

He was horny, hard, high, and hurt.

Not a great combination.

“It ain’t that big a deal, Smiles. Yer makin’ mountains outa molehills.” He fluffed up his tits with a playful smile. It was not reciprocated with any enthusiasm. “Just wanted ta have a little fun, ya know. Shit got away from me, but it was jus’ dancin.”

“Naked.”

“Yeah, Al, naked. Whateva.” He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s who I am. Ya can’t change me.”

“I do not think I am asking too much. You do not need to DISPLAY yourself at every opportunity!” Alastor snapped. 

“Really, mothafucka. Ya think I’m in the wrong here? Ya just tentacle fucked me in public which, don’t get me wrong, was fuckin awesome and let’s do that all the fuckin time, but ya displayed more of me in yer little pissin’ contest with Val than I planned on showin.” He finished the water bottled and met Alastor’s growing fury with an arch of his eyebrow. “I’m gonna display whateva the fuck I want when and whereva the fuck I want, ~Daddy~. Can ya handle that?” 

A pause. 

“No.” 

Angel’s heart sank. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, looking out the window. The silence felt…nauseating. 

Vaggie. Cherri. Valentino. Everyone had told him not to get attached, so really this was for the best, right? Better to nip it in the bud early on. Better to find out they had irreconcilable differences before he fell… in love…or something crazy like that. 

He was a stripper. A drug addict. A whore.

He couldn’t change that… even if he wanted to. 

Even if he wanted to.

There was the faint rustling of movement beside him. Alastor’s hand closed tentatively around his own. He glanced at the Radio Demon who was pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. In frustration maybe? “Mon Ange… Can we…come to a compromise.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes…Please?” 

Oh ho ho. Who had the power now? Whatever this prude might say, he was still the one chasing Angel’s tight ass. 

This, this he could work with. Alastor didn’t apologize. That much Angel had noticed. However, this felt…close enough. It felt like progress anyway. 

“I’ll think about it,” he mumbled, lacing their fingers. He liked the way their hands looked together. Real…sappy and shit. “Ya know, I’m pretty sure you’ll get bored of me soon anyway. That’s what everyone says.”

“My dear, you are many things. Boring is not one of them.” Alastor laughed, ears perking forward when Angel leaned against his shoulder. 

“Yeah? What else am I?” 

“Oh, I don’t wish to get in another argument with you.”

“Ya no good motha fucka.” 

Alastor’s lips met his. The kiss lingered. Slow. Soft. The kind of kiss that knocked the wind out of ya. “I would prefer you not have sex… with anyone else… or associate yourself with Valentino and his establishments,” Alastor said, immediately ruining the mood. Angel rolled his eyes and focused his attention on playing with one of the fluffy red poofs much to Alastor’s apparent dismay as it twitched away from the touch. “Today’s little escapade has given me some ideas for our recreational time. A workaround for my lack of consistent interest in sexual activities. It seems my abilities may be able to keep you sated well enough. And I did…enjoy seeing you crying for me.” 

“Sick fuck,” Angel said, grinning as the ears flattened. “Yeah, alright. That’s fair. Don’t care to ride any otha cock anyway. Ya got the best dick around, handsome.”

“Why do I get the feeling you have said that to many gentlemen?”

“Because I have, but I was always lyin until now.”

“…”

“I’m serious, baby. If it weren’t I woulda insulted ya by now. Personal jabs are kinda my go-to when I get pissy”

“Fair enough. Also, if you plan to…remove your clothes in public, I wish to be there to supervise.”

Angel’s face heated up. “Y-yeah. Alright. N-no problem. Guess ya wanna protect yer assets, huh?”

“Yes. Now, if you continue to touch my ears I will take off your shoes and look at your feet.”

Wait? What? This rotten, good for nothin sneaky bastard! How the fuck had Al noticed he was self conscious about his fucking feet? 

And so the rest of the ride home was spent bickering.

-

Their date. 

He only remembered the fucking date when he fully sobered up hours later. It happened while he was idly flipping through a magazine in bed, towel on his head and newly painted red fingernails just having dried. Alastor sat upright against the headboard, reading some massive, dull-looking book.

The fucking date.

A quick glance at the clock told him that it was… so late, nearly 2am. Alastor hadn’t said anything about it, but Angel knew he’d definitely… fucked up. What time had Alastor gotten to the club and collected him? It had already been dark out for certain. 

How long had Alastor spent looking for him? Had he merely been angry or also…worried? Hurt? Upset?

When they had arrived back at the hotel earlier everything rushed around him in a flurry, a haze. It was only when he looked away from Alastor that he realized just how fucked up he was. The world spun around them. Nothing else made sense. He felt dizzy, sick, jumpy, and just…so off.

Charlie’s disappointment, Vaggie’s rage, and all their checking up on him suddenly came crashing down in a wave of sickening realization. He hadn’t come home. They hadn’t known where he was. When Al finally found him and brought him home he was high as a kite, drunk, and clinging desperately to the Radio Demon, unwilling to be parted for even a second..

Oh. Oh shit.

Angel sheepishly put away his magazine and crawled up the bed to lay beside the radio demon, studying his grinning features.

“Smiles, how can I make it up ta ya. Ya know, missin the date? Why don’t we do somethin all day tomorrow. If ya want. Just…spend the day togetha…maybe? If yer not busy doin radio demon shit.” 

“You should stay in tomorrow, my dear. You are going to feel absolutely horrendous in the morning.” He flipped a page of the book. “ But, if you are indeed up to the task I will take you out on some errands with me. Ah, speaking of which, are you ready to sleep, mon Ange?” Alastor snapped his fingers. The reading material vanished and Angel found himself suddenly wrapped up in the other man’s arms as the lights flickered off. 

“Hey Smiles, are ya… how are you feeling…right now?”

“Oh, I’m completely just consumed with rage,” Al answered with a sharp laugh. 

It was playful…but it also sounded way too honest.

“You’re mad at me?” Wait. Shouldn’t they work through this or something?

“Oh yes. Very.”

“Should we… I dunno…Talk about it or somethin?”

“Mmm no.” 

“Well, fuck, Al. Why the fuck are ya cuddlin me and lovin’ me up if yer pissed at me.”

“I don’t know.” 

Angel paused and laid his head on Alastor’s chest. “Tell me about the bet ya made with Valentino.”

“No. Don’t worry about it, Mon Ange.” Alastor rubbed circles into Angel’s back, fingers tickling up his spine. “Just stay away from him.”

“Ya don’t need ta be obtuse, ya know.” Angel grumbled. “How long ya gonna be mad at me for?”

“I have not decided yet, but I will inform you when I have chosen an end date.” A hand closed over Angel’s eyes. “Sleep now, Anthony.”

The hand over his eyes felt like a blindfold.

________

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	5. The Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not long ago Alastor made a little bet. Later, Angel Dust and Alastor get into an argument again.

Chapter 5: The Bet

~Flashback to The Bet~

The denizens of hell followed the Radio Demon with their eyes as he sashayed into the seediest strip club in hell. Those who knew him cringed away in terror or stared, in curious awe, as he traversed the gaudy pink hallway, sidestepping vomit and cum. A man on a mission, dressed to the nines and looking fine for a day trip to XXX Vale.

Even in hell, morning at a strip club was a particularly depressing and debauched scene, with all the filth and grime from the night before and no darkness to hide it. It is no wonder that upon seeing him Valentino, who had been utterly bored while struggling to train a couple new dancers, eagerly fixed his attention on this new and interesting distraction. 

After all, it wasn’t everyday the Radio Demon wandered into your strip club. 

“Well well well. Isn’t this a surprise? The Radio Demon coming right into my den of sin,” Valentino purred, standing from his thronelike chair to look down upon the smaller man ominously. “Lookin’ for some fun, baby? I’m sure I can find someone for you, for a price of course. A Girl? A Boy? Maybe something in between?”

No one quite new what the Radio Demon preferred, but Valentino was eager to figure it out, a naturally nosy bitch.

“Greetings! Pleasure to meet you, see you, make your acquaintance, my good man!” Alastor’s booming voice echoed off the the walls of the massive empty room, all static and buzzing. He spoke so quickly Valentino almost didn’t catch the subtly petty insult.

“We’ve met before—“

“Have we? Well, no matter.” Alastor twirled his cane and circled the moth Demon, apparently undaunted by the other man’s superior height and unintimidated by his deep smooth voice. “I’ve come to you with a proposition, a once in an afterlife deal, a fun foray into the thrills of wagering for a high pillow such as yourself.”

“A…what?” This moron sure knew how to talk. Valentino might have shot him in the knee, but the alternative was screaming at a slut for being a clumsy bitch on the pole and he just couldn’t be bothered at the moment. “Get to the point, Radio Demon. If you’re not here to play or pay, then—“

“Ah, then let me make myself perfectly clear. I’m here for Angel Dust.” 

Ah, so the infamous Radio Demon preferred pretty gay twinks. Well, he would have to tell…absolutely everyone about that. They finally had an answer, albeit an unexpected one. Angel Dust was a crowd favorite, for certain, but he never expected the Radio Demon would have the patience for such a crass mouthy slut.

How much would people pay to see the Radio Demon plow the pornstar? Oh the possibilities if he played his cards right.  
“My Angel Cakes?” He said, placing a hand over his chest and grinning. “He’s a top dollar whore, baby, but you got the green and I’ll make him do whatever you want. We can discuss price and come to a deal, I’m sure.” 

“I would like his contact.”

“…Get out.”

It wouldn’t be the first time someone wanted Angel. His Angel Cakes brought in the dough, a top earner with a nice tight ass. Like hell he’d give up that revenue stream. 

He turned his back on Alastor and refocused his attention on the new stripper who was wobbling in 6 inch stilettos. This useless fucking bitch…

“Ha! Oh, Of course of course…but… I simply thought you might be willing to risk parting with that silly chippy for the right opportunity.” Alastor said, all laughter. Then, he spoke again and his voice was deeper— softer, “Tell me, are you afraid?”

Afraid? “Oh baby, you are really starting to grate on my nerves—“ 

“It’s only that your position seems rather precarious, my dear fellow,” Alastor said, sharp smile widening with each word. “Such a tumultuous relationship with your benefactor, your sweetie, your…currently “ex” boyfriend at the moment? Forgive me, it is so difficult to keep up.” He paused for effect, meeting Valentino’s glare with flaring, intelligent eyes. Eyes that saw everything. “It must be so debasing, knowing that one day he will realize you aren’t worth all the trouble and decide to cut you off completely. Then where will you be, I wonder? What are you without Vox Media? Porn magazines and strip joints I suppose. No internet presence. No television. Mmm troublesome for your marketing. He could so easily replace you too~”

That was it. Valentino drew his gun. He was gonna shoot the Radio Demon in the face. He cocked and aimed the revolver. “I let you keep talking because I liked the sound of your voice, sweetheart, but now I think it’s time you—“

“What if you had just a little power over him?” Alastor said with a small tilt of his head to the side. Valentino paused. “Just enough to dangle over his head, to stay in control.”

This fucker really was batshit insane. 

“…TV killed the Radio Star, baby. What could you possibly have to fuckin offer?” Why was Vox so fixated on this idiot. Why consider him a rival? He was nothing. A bit interesting, certainly. Perhaps a novelty, but there was no real power in someone who refused to evolve with the times. He was old news— old tech.

“Mmmm I’m not a fan of technology from after the 1930s, it’s true, but I suppose my particular abilities might be useful in the hands of someone who likes all that nonsense.”

“…what?”

“A little bet, you see. If I win, I take Angel Dust’s contract and, well, do with him what I will. If you win, I hand over my power to you and you control those radio waves. I use them for broadcasting, but there are other uses.”

“Radio waves…?” Valentino’s voice drifted off in confusion. Radio waves…what use was that? 

“Indeed. Oh… Radio waves also happen to carry signals to television and hellphones.” Alastor purred, watching Valentino holster his gun when the true realization of what Alastor was offering sunk in. “I refuse to partake in or understand any of it, you see, but YOU might be able to do something with that, I suppose.”

He COULD do something with that. 

Suddenly Valentino’s expression shifted. He moved languidly, all smiles and hospitality, pulling over and dusting off a sweaty pink chair.

“…why don’t you take a seat baby,” he said, sickeningly sweet and crooning. “Make yourself comfortable. I suppose I can stand to hear the details of this… proposition. I’m listening.”

“It’s quite simple really,” Alastor started, blatantly refusing to take the provided seat by ignoring the offer completely, forming a chair of shadows which he sat upon primly. “You allow me to pay off all of Angels troublesome little debts and take him off your hands— Purchase him and his freedom fair and square. I need one week to…properly acclimate him to the new arrangement. After that, if you are able to snare him into willingly and knowingly signing your usual pimp-whore contract within a month, you get both Angel Dust and my power. If not, well, I keep Angel Dust and you never bother with him again.”

Betting all that power for a whore… Valentino squinted and asked, “What’s your angle?”

“Ah, my reasons don’t particularly matter.” A slow, slippery grin seemed to split Alastor’s face as he extended a glowing, gloved hand. There was some kind of eldritch magic twisting in the air, something strange and threatening. Something that made the Radio Demon’s voice sound haunting. How very amusing. “Do we have a deal?”

Angel Dust. Angel Dust who always came back for more. Angel Dust who had nothing but the limelight. Angel Dust who craved big meaty dicks and attention. Angel Dust who couldn’t stay clean for the life of him.

Angel Dust would come back to Daddy. He always did.

He had this in the bag.

“You know what, Baby, I think I’m feeling like a gambling man today.”

And so they shook hands, both convinced of their own superiority. 

———  
Present

Angel Dust felt incredibly conflicted. On one hand, he was almost positive that he could completely justifiably stab the Radio Demon in his smug fuckin face. On the other hand, he was becoming increasingly attached to the bastard’s numerous ways of pleasuring and impaling him. Not to mention, the cuddling… the banter… and the quiet moments of just being in each others presence that felt so strangely…right.

But it had been four days since Alastor had allowed him to leave the hotel “unsupervised” and he was going fucking crazy. One the first day, he had willingly pranced after the Radio Demon, taking great amusement in what was obviously the man’s strange little routine, smiling saucily at anyone who stared, accepting the jealous glares of some lady cannibals, and marveling at the fear and reverence so many seemed to have for the famous Radio Demon. 

It had been one of those… distant days for the Radio Demon. He hadn’t been particularly touchy feely, keeping a distance from any physical contact as they went. Sometimes he felt so out of fucking reach. At first, Angel thought perhaps the Radio Demon was ashamed of…

Well you get the idea.

However, just when he was deciding how to broach the subject of whether or not Al wanted him to be…discreet… about whatever this thing was between them, the bastard reached back and took his hand as they were crossing a busy street. He did not let it go for some time after that. 

So…maybe he wasn’t ashamed?

On the second day, when he tried to go out with Cherri, Alastor simply said “no.” He did not elaborate. Angel didn’t press the issue. 

On the third day they got into a bitter passive aggressive battle of the bitchy side remarks. 

And on the fourth day…

“No fuckin’ way I’m stayin in dis shithole, ‘specially when yer in one of yer “don’t fuckin touch me” moods!” A shouting match in the lobby with Charlie running back and forth between them, trying to calm both of them down while Vaggie joined in on the shouting. 

“Can’t you guys fucking argue in your room?!” She said, exasperated. 

Three hours of their shouting had left her hair standing on edge. 

“I would certainly do so if our effeminate friend here weren’t insistent on making a spectacle of himself in the company of others!” Alastor snapped. His smiling teeth were grinding, a trickle of blood trailing down his hand from squeezing his claws into his fist. 

“I’m not going back inta that fuckin room, ya joker wannabe shithead!” Angel said as he made a beeline for the front door, screaming in frustration when black shadows reached out of the void and grabbed him around the waist, pulling him away. “God dammit! God fuckin Dammit! Ya Bastard, I swear ta fuckin god if ya don’t let me outta here I’m gonna fuckin kill ya in yer fuckin sleep.”

“Just let him go out, Al,” Charlie said tentatively. “This is… not okay. Residents are allowed to come and go as they please from the hotel. Are you trying to do some kind of rehab?”

“He’s just bein a jealous asshole!”

“Angel—“ the Radio Demon hissed.

“Just say it, Al. Ya don’t fuckin trust me. Yer so fuckin insecure that ya can’t let me out of yer fuckin sight. I swear ta God, yer worse than Mistah Val—“

Oh. That did it.

The tentacles vanished. Alastor seemed, in that moment, genuinely stunned. 

“Al, I didn’t mean it. I—“

“You are right.” Al cut him off. Brows furrowing, he visibly bit back his pride and turned sharply on his heel. “ I am being… unreasonable. Please enjoy yourself and… do try to stay out of too much trouble.”

Alastor didn’t have to tell him twice. Angel bolted towards the front doors.

But then…he paused, listening to the soft clink of Alastor’s shoes walking away. 

He turned again, ran to Alastor, and hugged his retreating back from behind, feeling the other man stiffen and bristle like a cat in a sour mood. “Hey, don’t know what’s got ya all pissy, but don’t fa’get I’m all yours, Daddy. Don’t worry so fuckin much. See ya later.”

Charlie looked at Vaggie as the couple broke apart and went their separate ways. Charlie tentatively started speaking, “They are…”

“Toxic?” Vaggie said, rolling her eyes and running a hand through her hair.

“I just don’t get it,” Charlie sighed. “Why is Al so controlling?”

“Who knows, but this isn’t good for the hotel. We need to talk to them about this. Sit them down and have a real conversation about maybe splitting them up into different rooms. They need to examine this relationship and really consider if maybe… they are unhealthy for eachother.”

“I don’t know.” Charlie paused and shook her head. “I guess you might be right.”

Angel returned to the hotel hours later smelling like smoke and explosives. When he sashayed into the shared bedroom, he came upon Alastor reading a book looking…concerned. His eyes seemed concerned. “Hey.”

The Radio Demon met his eyes, studied him, and then smiled more completely, seeming oddly relieved. “Ah, welcome back my dear.” Angel slid into Alastor’s lap carefully, making himself comfortable when it appeared Alastor was more touch receptive now than he had been earlier. The strawberry pimp even nuzzled into the fluff of Angel’s chest while the spider stroked and fondled his ears.  
“Ya know, ya got fuckin issues,” he said.

A pause.

Al sighed, closing his eyes and running his fingers through the soft fluff of Angels chest. “I know. I am…I am sorry. I will work…on them.”

Oh, that was something new.

“…y-yeah?” Angel smiled shyly, flushing a bit. 

“Yes.” 

“I guess I make it pretty hard ta trust me, huh?” Angel moaned softly as Alastor’s lips trailed along his neck, over the mark that refused to disappear. 

“A little, mon Ange. A little.”

“Yer still mad at me…can we talk about it now?” 

“…”

“Well it was worth a shot.”

“…I am angry…” Alastor said slowly. He ran clawed fingers along Angel’s sides. “At you, but mostly at myself . I have formed an attachment to you, I suppose you could say. I do not wish to…lose you. But you…I often think “sexual” gratification is the only thing binding you to me… it’s flimsy. Frustrating…”

“Ya think I only like ya fa ya dick?!” Angel laughed, giggling at the glare shot from the face practically in his tits. “Al, trust me. I like ya. I really really like ya. So no more temper tantrums alright? Same goes fa me. Let’s jus’…I dunno…try ta talk about what we’re feelin and shit.”

A long slow kiss. 

They tumbled contently, lovingly, tenderly into the bed. 

Angel woke in the middle of the night drenched in a cold sweat and screaming.

And screaming.

And screaming. 

——

Authors Note: all your Reads, Kudos, and Comments mean so much to me. Thank you all for being just so amazing and positive and warm!

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	6. Scared Horny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor is really fuckin scary... but also that’s kinda hot? Angel has to deal with being scared and horny. Also, certain words are spoken.

Chapter 6

Dread. That strange, primal fear. In the shadows of the mind, in the dark of the night, it doesn’t need a cause, a rhyme, or a reason. It hangs thick in the air like the sauna of a Louisiana bayou. It vibrates through the body, a coiled snake of adrenaline ready to spring, a hammering heart that beats too quickly. 

The world of a night terror only needs a few set pieces. Darkness alone sets a fine stage for fear. A fine stage indeed. Angel was accustomed to the stage, was accustomed to seeing terrible, horrific things, but in that moment he was not Angel Dust. He was someone else. He was Anthony. Just Anthony.

And Anthony had seen death before, had grown up knowing the feel of a gun, the kiss of cool metal, the blowback of a shot. But Anthony still felt dread. 

A hall. A door. His hand on the knob, turning it slowly. 

Dread.

A fear so intense it shook him. An awareness that deep down he knew, just knew, what was behind the door, and yet he refused to know for certain until he saw it for himself. The turn of the knob, so slow and agonizing. 

And then terror.

And screaming. And screaming. And screaming.

A hand clasping over his eyes, like a blindfold. 

He fought against the arms that encircled him, thrashed and flailed with every ounce of his being. He reached for his gun, but found only his own bare skin. 

“Shhh shhh. Ça va aller, mon amour, tranquille.” A voice spoke in a hushed command, alert despite his apparent abrupt awakening. The lights flickered on and Angel winced against the brightness, meeting Alastor’s probing gaze. The Radio Demon on top of him, pinning his flailing limbs to the bed with the help of shadows so Angel didn’t hurt himself, looking down at him with that wide curious smile. 

He was here. He was in hell. He’d seen worse than whatever a dream had to offer. What had it been? He couldn’t remember. He slept in the same bed as one of hell’s most dangerous and powerful demons. His chest, rapidly rising and falling, began to slowly settle into a steadier rhythmic pace. 

The tremors that rippled through him gradually declined. “S-sorry, Smiles,” he stammered. Why was he stuttering like some frightened little pussy? He was the indomitable Angel Dust! “Ha! Hope I didn’t deck ya, Daddy. Guess that’s why ya don’t eat hell food before bed, huh?”

Alastor released his grip, cupping Angel’s cheek in a clawed hand. “Are you alright?” 

Hell no. He was not gonna be the product of the Radio Demon’s fuckin pity and concern over some itty bitty nightmare. Like hell he was. He was already losing ground controlling the progression of this weird fuckin…thing…of theirs. He didn’t need to lose more.

“I’m fine, Al. Ain’t nothin but a shitty dream. Hey, ya know ‘amour’ is pretty close ta ‘amore’. I speak Italian. Not too different from all dat pretty French,” he grinned slowly, deviously. “So ya love me, huh? I’m ya ‘love’.” 

Alastor froze up and then was off Angel in a flash, abruptly shifting into daywear and straightening his bow tie as though it were the most important thing in the goddamn world. “Since I have been so rudely awakened, I think I will start my day early. You can never be too prompt I always say!” He spoke rapidly. Angel Dust leaned his chin on his hand and watched Alastor wordlessly pet and soothe an oinking Fat Nuggets, placing him next to Angel on the bed, before making a beeline for the door. 

“Arrivederci, Amore mio.” Angel called after him, smiling broadly. Alastor paused at the door and looked back at him. Fuck, those eyes made him weak. How was this situation already getting away from him? Al used “love” first, so even if he was feeling the same way, despite it being…so soon… he was still “winning”, right? Even if they were crashing through this…thing…too hard and too fast…it was okay because he was winning, right? 

A few beats of silence. Alastor’s eyes simmered like burning coals.

Angel flushed pink. Oh. Oh fuck. 

The Radio Demon stalked towards him. 

“Wait wait wait. Not in front of the baby. Fuck, gimme a second.” Angel started as Alastor climbed on top of him. The Radio Demon arched a brow.

“Baby?” He purred the word, tone carrying a hint of amusement. His tongue flicked along Angel’s neck as he rubbed a thumb over one of the sensitive pert nipples under all that white fluff. 

Angel gestured to Fat Nuggets, biting back a moan. “The baby…”

“Ah, right. Some privacy, Little One.” Alastor set the pig back on the floor and watched it scamper away before returning his gaze to the spider beneath him. “Now,” Angel’s back arched as the Radio demon pinched and rolled his nipples deftly between thumb and forefinger. That low deep snarling growl coming from Alastor had his thighs trembling. “Say it again.”

“ Arrivederci?” Angel couldn’t help but tease him. Al’s smile seemed to widen, a ghastly sinister thing. All teeth and danger. The Radio Demon pried open his thighs and moved down his body, long tongue trailing over Angel’s chest, then navel, and then down…down… until it coiled around his pink, dripping cock. The daggerlike teeth glinted.

“Angel, I’d prefer not to ask again. Please~” Alastor purred, a staticky echo to his voice. His lips trailed kisses along the length of the leaking rod as he rubbed his thumb over the mushroom tip.

“A-Amore mio? Ahhhhh!” 

Alastor practically swallowed his cock. The tongue, moving so hungrily around the base of rod. The throat a hot wet cavern for him to thrust into. It had Angel screaming all over again.

When they first met, he had offered to suck Al’s dick and been…quite adamantly rejected. Now the Radio Demon was sucking him dry with all the passion and fervor he thought the man might be incapable of feeling or expressing. 

Maybe no one had to win. Maybe they were both winners or losers, or whatever all this meant. 

There was one thing he never quite saw coming.

The Radio Demon was a swallower. 

—

“We’re just worried that… maybe the two of you are moving too fast and… it’s getting really volatile. Angel. Angel, are you okay?” 

“Oh for— Angel, wake the fuck up!”

Vaggie’s voice cut in like a thunderclap interrupting the steady, plodding rain of Charlie’s words. Angel sat up straight on the pink couch, finding he had been leaning and apparently dosing on the Radio Demon’s shoulder. If Alastor had any qualms about this, he certainly didn’t show it, looking rather exhausted himself with the faintest hint of grayish bags under his eyes. 

“This is what I’m talking about,” Charlie said, continuing her gentle lecture. “The arguing and screaming…and…Al, please wake him up.”

“I assure you, Miss Magne, you have absolutely nothing to worry about,” Alastor said with his winning smile, glancing at Angel with two red deer ears perked forward. “I see no reason to rouse him,” he said dismissively as Angel wrapped four arms around his own. “A rather eventful night. That is all.”

“Al,” Charlie started, blinking at the hard stare and threatening grin the radio demon gradually directed her way. 

“Charlie Charlie Charlie. You’re a charming demon gal and I certainly find your opinions quite fascinating but…” he voice lowered. “Why don’t you change the subject?”

“Was that a threat?” Vaggie said. Reaching for a weapon. 

Tense silence.

Angel blinked dazedly and stretched, looking between Alastor’s fierce smile, Vaggie’s snarl, and Charlie’s stricken face. He made eye contact with Alastor, arching a brow. “…Daddy chill.” 

“Angel,” Charlie started to say, rather sheepishly. 

“Listen, blondie. Fact-a-da-matta is our… relationship… ain’t ya business,” Angel said, shrugging his shoulders. “But we’ll try ta keep it down… or get better sound proofin’.” He pulled out his hellphone and began scrolling. “Al, gimme yer wallet. I’m gonna order some of this sound proofin shit through Voxtazon.” 

The Radio Demon rolled his eyes and scowled. “I don’t have one of those infernal cards. How much does it cost? We can go purchase it at a store.”

“What the Fuck, Al? The last place ya wanna go is some kinda tech store or whateva that would have this shit. Online is easier. Why the hell don’t ya have a credit card?!” He shook his head in disbelief. “Yer gettin’ a card.” 

“No. You may get a card and I will give you the cash required to pay your fees, but I refuse to get a card.” 

“So fuckin stubborn,” Angel pecked his cheek. “Fine. Whateva.”

The girls were still staring. 

Angel blinked at them. “What?”

“What is this?” Vaggie said, gesturing vaguely at them. “Is it some sort of weird sugar daddy thing? Are you dating casually? Are you in a serious committed relationship? Do you even like each other? No one can figure it out.”

“Oh,” Angel trailed off.

“A combination of the first and third option, my dear, and yes, we very much like each other despite our constant bickering so it need not cause further distress.” Alastor said, standing abruptly. “Now, I was under the impression you wanted to put on some sort of shindig to arouse interest in the hotel. Shall we switch topics to that or do you want to continue discussing the intimate details of my personal life?”

“Well shit, Charlie. I didn’t know ya wanted ta throw a fuckin party! Let’s talk ‘bout that!” Angel suddenly felt quite awake. Now a party he could get behind. Dancing. Drinks. Maybe if he dressed all fancy in some sorta form-fittin’ vintage dress he could get Al to fuck him in an alcove. 

And really his mood felt… brightened… for some reason. He felt giddy. 

Why was he so happy?

Charlie wanted an upscale affair. No alcohol. No drugs. No… well, she just kinda looked at Angel Dust and he got the picture. No weird sexy shit. Got it. Probably gonna ignore it. Alastor’s ideas seemed…counterintuitive. He watched as the radio demon convinced her that “really they absolutely MUST have an open bar” and “how better to get participants for this merry affair than to pass out fliers in the streets to all denizens of hell”. 

Oh shit. He was totally fucking with her. He was lampooning this shit before it even started.

He arched both his brows as Alastor, with his smooth talking flair and broad smile, managed to sway her in whatever direction he liked. Manipulative. Conniving. Feral. When she and Vaggie finally left them alone, he looked at his… boyfriend… and grinned.

“You’re a fuckin asshole,” he said plainly from his spot on the couch. “Ya know this shit is gonna be a disaster.”

“Oh I’m sure I don’t know what your talking about, mon cher.” Alastor clipped back, grinning broadly as he leaned down and pressed the lightest kiss on Angel’s lips. 

“Ya know,” Angel teased. “I’m tempted ta get that redemption she talks about jus’ ta spite ya. Take myself right up ta heaven.” 

Alastor paused, stroking his cheek thoughtfully. “Angel…”

“Yeah, Smiles?”

The Radio Demon pressed their foreheads together, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. His words were a low, static hiss. “If that ever happens, I will bite through feather, cartilage, and bone to rip off your silly little wings and drag you back down to hell with me.” A pause. Another kiss. “Do you understand, mon amour?” 

“Fuck, Smiles. I…I understand. Love ya too, asshole.”

Was there a word for scared and horny at the same time? He doubted there was one in French. He knew there wasn’t one in English or Italian. Maybe the Germans had a word for that…

But yeah. Scared Horny. He was scared horny. 

———

Thank you for reading!

Please Kudos and Review! It brings me joyyyy.


	7. The Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But seriously... what is a fella to do when his sugar daddy is a sadistic asshole who wants to have fun messing with other people. Ya can’t really stop the Radio Demon from being a prick. Also, there’s pretty dress.

Author’s Note: Another chapter. Pretty fluffy. Two idiots figuring each other out, getting more comfortable with each other. 

Trigger Warning: Referenced Past Sexual Abuse by Valentino. Angel starts having a memory during intercourse with Alastor. It doesn’t last long but just a heads up. 

-

Chapter 7

So you want to host a shindig in Hell? The first thing you oughta know is that you can’t invite just anyone. There are gangs that should never cross paths, jealousies, rivalries, soap-opera level dramatics, and random turf wars constantly raging between demons of all sorts. You go around inviting everyone to your party, passing out fliers at random and promising free booze, well, you’re in for a fuckin shit show.

Angel felt a tad guilty as he swayed his hips, bounced his tits, and flitted around PenCentral Park, handing out fliers with the rest of the Hazbin gang. They were hittin all types of places in Hell, from alleyways to avenues, from shops to docks. Sure, it would be fuckin hilarious when the party spiraled out of control, but he couldn’t help but worry over Charlie’s sweetly smiling expression and optimistic can-do attitude. She really didn’t see it, did she? She didn’t see what a shitty idea this was?

Alastor, of course, was having a fucking ball with this shit. His grin seemed to split his whole fuckin face in half and Angel sometimes wondered if he was the only one who noticed how feral it seemed … all mischief and malicious intent. 

He tried to warn Charlie once or twice in those brief moments when his guilt outweighed his amusement. However, Alastor was real good at distracting him whenever Angel’s conscious threatened to ruin the Radio Demon’s fun. 

It would go something like this:

“Charlie, about this party. I think—“

“Angel, my dear! There you are! A moment of your time. I have a very important question for you~” Alastor’s voice, sharp and booming, would cut him off and bulldoze over his words at breakneck speed. How that fucker always managed to materialize behind him at the worst possible moments would never cease to amaze Angel.

After that, the Radio Demon would insert some horribly cringey dad joke, irritating argument starter, or a ridiculous question about any number of topics that Al refused to understand but still insisted on having strong opinions about. Any mention of post-30s technology or culture was sure to start a fight, particularly social media. If Angel had to explain one more time why sharing photos of himself on Voxtagram was such a hoot to that grinning dickwad he would fuckin scream. Mostly they would bicker, sometimes laugh, and he would end up forgetting whatever it was he had been about to say. 

All in all, despite being in a monogamous relationship with what was clearly a smiling sadist with severe sociopathic tendencies, Angel was… happy? Yeah. He was happy. Actually happy. 

Sure, Alastor was a volatile pot of crazy that he would never fully understand, but now that they had…defined the relationship and expressed their “feelings” the Radio Demon seemed far more at ease and far less… in a constant state of anger, anxiety, and possessive indignation. 

Not to mention the play, punishment, and sex was fucking amazing. 

Angel wagged a flier in front of a strung-out rainbow leopard. The Lisa Frank lookin mother fucker just gawked at him. “Yer that trick from the pornos,” he growled in a voice that managed to be both gravely and high pitched at the same time, reaching towards Angel’s white fluffy chest. “How much to mount ya, slut? Ever had a barbed dick in yer ass?”

Well fuck, his fans sure were a “charming” bunch, weren’t they?

“Hands off the merchandise, kitty cat,” he said, rolling his eyes and crossing all four of his arms. Maybe a little bit of bitchiness would help this fella get the hint.“My new Sugar Daddy ain’t keen on sharin’. Ya comin ta the party or not?”

“Oh, I think not,” Alastor’s voice rang in his ears as the Radio Demon punched the leopard out of sight with a fist of shadows. He looped an arm around Angel’s waist and tugged him away promptly, using his free hand to pull up the low neckline of Angel’s top. His large crimson ears flicked back when they managed to get out of earshot. “Constant. It’s absolutely, positively constant. These frothing, lusty idiots will drive me mad before the day is out, mon amour. Mark my words!”

“Well if ya ain’t willin ta invite any dude who wants ta fuck me ta this party then it’s gonna be a real clam fest, sugah.” Angel said, shooting Alastor a wide grin and reveling in the look of smiling, staticky repulsion that gradually spread over the Radio Demon’s face. Ha! He’d file that shit away for later. Al was not a fan of genital related slang. Noted. Fun. He couldn’t help but chuckle aloud as he tugged his top back down, readjusting the neckline to its original position. 

This park was unique, all towering trees and winding pathways— One of the few really green places Angel had seen in Hell. Red roses bloomed in abundance on unpruned hedges. The air smelled fresh and fragrant. Aside from all the drug addicts, rapists, and muggers, the place seemed awfully pleasant. He watched as Al plucked a rose, tilting his head when the flower wilted in the man’s hand. The briefest moment of fleeting irritation and disappointment flashed across those smiling features. Poor Al, his lovable bastard. 

Angel plucked the flower from the other man’s hand and tucked it fastidiously into his own hair. Wilted roses suited him anyway. A soft touch of warmth followed. Al’s lips brushed his cheek.

Who said a whore and an uptight prick couldn’t be romantic? 

“Hey lovebirds, you done passing out these fucking flyers yet?” Husk growled, glaring sleepily as he shoved the last of his flyers at an unsuspecting passerby. The cat was sitting, rather grudgingly on a park bench, wings drooping. “The sooner they’re gone, the sooner we can go back to the hotel. I need a fucking drink.” 

Angel couldn’t blame him. They’d been at this shit for hours and he was starting to itch for something to do that wasn’t… this. He could really use drink, or a smoke…or a quick high. Even a rough ass fucking behind a bush would really hit the spot right about now, but Al appeared to be in one of his stuffy moods and he didn’t want to pressure him when he wasn’t feeling down for it. I mean, if he really wanted to he was sure he could get Alastor to that “point” with some concerted effort. There were a few ways to rev up the Radio Demon: emotional intimacy, really pissing him off until he snapped, and acting like a submissive little bitch begging to be broken and bullied. The latter two only worked if the first one was secured. And really the last one just got ya fucked by a dozen tentacles.

Had Al ever been in love with anyone else? It kinda…pissed him off to think about the Radio Demon playing sugar daddy boyfriend for another person.

Fuck. He needed to think about something else.

“Ya know, Al, it ain’t too late ta stop with the bullshit,” Angel said softly in almost a whisper. “I know ya like havin yer… fun… but this party is gonna be a fuckin dumpsta fire and ya know it. Why not give the gal a break? She’s just tryin ta help folks like us. Doesn’t deserve ta be disappointed.”

“Mmm, I have absorbed your opinion, my dear, and I respectfully reject your input in favor of my own desires.” Alastor returned, smiling all sinister in that eerie way of his. “Now that that is settled, let’s not speak on the matter again. Ah, I know, let’s discuss the issue of your attire.”

This mother fucker. Angel made a point of yanking his top down lower. “I swear ta god Al, if ya try ta tell me how ta dress again, I’ll deck ya. Ya know I will.” He started to say, but then stopped himself. “Yer just tryin ta piss me off cause ya wanna change the subject. Don’t be an ass.”

“Astute, my dear. Very astute,” Al said, patting Angel’s hip lightly. 

“Asshole.”

When they found Charlie, Angel was internally distraught to see that the princess of Hell had managed to give out all the fliers designated for the park… and then some! Shit, did no one have anything better to do? Alastor looked gleeful, Charlie looked hopeful, and Angel felt miserable. He really should say something… but the claws digging into his hip made his throat run dry.

“Oh! Perfect! There you guys are!” Charlie beamed, shoving more fliers into Angel’s four arms. “We passed out sooooo many flyers. People seem really interested in redemption.” He wanted to point out the words “open bar” written in glowing red ink, but couldn’t quite manage to burst her bubble. “Angel, could you pass these out on the corner of Fire and Brimstone. There’s a whole lot of foot traffic there. Al, can you try…well… I have noticed people mostly…” she wanted to say “run away from you screaming” but she clearly thought this was something that might offend the Radio Demon. 

“He could pass shit out to his cannibal fans, “ Husk interjected, approaching them with his usual lack of enthusiasm. “I’m fucking done for the day.”

Angel envied him his blunt apathy in that moment. Fuck he wanted to bolt too.

“Oh, but there’s still so much more to do.” Charlie said, blinking those large innocent eyes.

“Nope,” Husk said, making a beeline for the exit. “One stop. That’s all I promised. I’m out.” 

“It’s fine, Charlie. We’ve passed out plenty,” Vaggie interjected, looking uncertainly at the flyer. Her brows furrowed. She parted her lips as of to say something, but sighed and shut them again, knowing it would be in vain. The “open bar” bit clearly troubled her, but any time she tried to voice opposition, Alastor managed to smooth talk the demon princess into overlooking her girlfriend’s legitimate concerns. A quick tongue and a quick wit. What a force to be reckoned with. 

“Hey Charlie,” Angel started to say, but the creaking 90 degree turn of the Radio Demon’s smiling face and the claws tearing into the skin of his hip had him trailing off.

“Yeah Angel?”

“Ah nevamind” He leaned down and pecked Alastor’s cheek. The claws scraped down his hip and over his ass tauntingly. Fucking prick knew he was horny and was using it to his advantage. The pain made him shiver. “I’ll head ta Fire & Brimstone now. See ya later, Smiles. Might find myself an outfit fa the party while I’m in the area. Any preferences?”

Might as well give him one itsy bitsy treat. Sure, Angel was rewarding bad behavior, but it was all on Alastor’s dime anyway. 

Alastor seemed to consider the question seriously. “You do look so very stunning in pink, my dear,” he said. “I’m sure anything you choose will be quite fetching, but if you wish to ‘treat me’ then you know just the particular style I have wanted to see you wear.”

Easy. “Gotcha. 1930s compatible. Sensual, not overly hoochy. Tits should stay in but a real low-cut back is fine. Figure huggin’ in a classy way. Silk or satin like da starlets if I can find it.” 

“Exactly exactly, my dear! Very well put!”

Another ass squeeze had Angel squirming. “Yeah, well, I know what ya like, Daddy,” Angel said, flushing slightly under the praise. “I’ll see what I can find.”

“Please don’t forget the fliers!” Charlie shouted the reminder after him. He really wanted to dump the lot of them into the trash bin but he just nodded and smiled awkwardly.

Karma was gonna bite him in the ass for this…

If Al didn’t get to it first.

-

He didn’t find the dress the first day…

Or the second day…

Or the third day…

Or even the fourth day…

Hell, he ran into Val, and ducked past the smiling pimp on the 5th day with little incident because he was so particularly fixated on shopping. The rat-faced pimp hadn’t seemed…happy… about being ignored, but Angel had more important shit to worry about.

Every time he went out looking, Charlie handed him another stack of fliers. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going, or what his current obsession was. They just assumed he was spending time with Cherri or doing whatever else it was he did when they were not around. They didn’t need to know he’d spent days looking for a fucking dress. In fact, he made it clear that he’d given up finding something classy and planned on wearing lingerie… much to Alastor’s dismay. 

He found it on the 6th day.

The dress was perfect. Bias cut. Blush colored. A bit of a train. Silk satin material. Low cut back. It took forever to fuckin find, and the only reason he got his hands on it without needing to suck some fella’s greasy dick was because he’d mentioned Alastor’s name. Seriously, what was it about Smiles that had half of hell cowering in fear? Whatever. He got the dress from some bizarre underground Vintage clothing collectors who smelled like cat piss, handed out all those fuckin fliers, and meticulously purchased the ingredients for a sauce. Meticulously being the key word here. He knew what he was looking for, and his mama had taught him well. He wouldn’t accept anything but the best and freshest ingredients. When this whole party thing went tits up he’d make everyone a home cooked meal— a real authentic Italian American spaghetti and meatballs. He wasn’t particularly domestic, but he knew how to fuckin cook. Maybe that would…lessen the sting of failure. 

Poor Charlie.

But whatever, he’d found the dress just in fucking time. Right on the morning before the party. Seriously, he could have made an outfit in that time using his six arms… fuck…why hadn’t he just made the fuckin thing himself?

It was real pretty though.

The real dread only sank back in when Angel sat at his vanity after bathing and began doing his makeup for the party. It was just a little party. Everyone had to experience a party getting a bit too wild. It was a right of passage. Charlie would be fine. The hotel would be fine. Everything would be fine. So he felt like a liar, so what? He hadn’t actually lied or nothin’. He just hadn’t spoken his mind, is all…

The fabric slid soft and cool against his skin and fur. Not bad. Not bad at all. Classy drag. 

“Angel, my dear, are you ready.” The door slammed open. Alastor no longer bothered knocking. A pause. The Radio Demon stood in the doorway staring at him. Fuck, did he hate it? Was it too much? If he hated it…

Angel would fucking kill him.

After all that effort, if this fucker hated it he would fucking kill him. He’d be double dead.

“Al,” Angel started to say, but the words were swallowed by a mouth fiercely pressing against his own. Fire and spice.

He felt those claws scraping down over his hips, the teeth sinking into that same spot on his neck that made his knees buckle. A rustle of fabric as Radio Demon bent him down over his vanity, a silk train being drawn up over his hips. When he looked up, he could see himself in the mirror, and an image flashed in his mind’s eye of a helpless moment with Valentino. Being bent over a vanity… just like this. Hands like shackles. 

No. No. No.

Not now. Not that. Not when it was Al’s cock pushing into his tight, eager hole from behind. Not when it was Al’s teeth and claws and painful kisses. Not now. He didn’t want to remember that now when The Radio Demon was finally, deliciously pounding into him after nearly a week of light play.

But each thrust felt like an intrusion, like a hot wet piston drilling into his ass. A memory of a violation that made his skin crawl. 

“Smiles…wait.” He said breathlessly, meeting the Radio Demon’s eyes in the mirror. Looking awesome. Feeling helpless. Helpless. Helpless. “Wait.”

He didn’t want it to stop…but not here. Not like this. How… could he explain? It was so fuckin awkward. He felt…silly. Weak.

Alastor leaned over his back, looking at the picture they made in the mirror, a hand wrapped around Angel’s neck, another on his hip. Eyes ticking clocks. Smile askew. Not all there. Not in full control. “Yes, mon amour?” He said, in a voice buzzing with static. “Did you want to stop?”

“No! Fuck no. Just… not here. Not the vanity.”

The briefest pause. “Oh, is that all? Not a problem, my dear,” Alastor lifted him up, still inside him, turned, and deposited him on the bed, angling his thrusts down into the very willing little hole. “Better?” 

Fuck that WAS better. So much better. 

“Fuck yessss. Ahhh.” 

Needless to say, the dress didn’t make it 20 minutes

Not 20 fucking minutes.


	8. And Around...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.  
> Cry if I want to.  
> Cry if I want to.  
> It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.  
> You would cry too if it happened to you...

Authors Note: I’ve been wanting to get this meaty chapter out for so long (and apparently I have no chill about posting things the second I possibly can). The songs... I wish I could vocalize them for ya because I worry they don’t come across on the page, but whatever. 

Trigger Warning: so many things. This chapter is a toxic dumpster fire mess with some dubious consent and violence and homophobic language thrown in. Yeah, it’s a bit of a sharp one. 

————

Chapter 8

A rip along the left side. Fabric stained in cum and blood. Punctures from various dagger toothed bites through the silk.. 

So much for the perfect dress.

“Well, I guess I’ll hafta wear somethin else,” Angel said, starting the tub. Might as well start over. He was fucking filthy after that bit of fun. 

Al blinked at him, smiling as always. “ Ah! No need, my dear,” a flick of the Radio Demon’s cane and both Angel and the dress, for all appearances, were clean and put together again.

Wait… no fuckin way.

“There was jizz all ova’ it, Smiles. Where the fuck did all the jizz go? What the fuck!” He gasped, horrified, holding up a hand when Alastor opened his mouth to answer. “Is this how ya fuckin bathe?!” Silence. Oh no. Oh god no. “Alastor, get in the tub. No, fuck you, shut up. Get in the fuckin tub.”

Wrestling your angry radio demon boyfriend into a bath tub isn’t a particularly easy task, but Angel managed it with a combination of sweet talking, threats, and promises. Getting him to shut up and accept Angel lathering him in soap took some convincing, and some compromise. 

He had to take off his shoes and get in the tub with Al. 

“My dear, they are adorable,” Alastor said, marveling at the fluffy spider toe beans with great amusement. Angel smacked him lightly and focused on scrubbing the man’s hands. His fuckin nails… seriously Angel needed to get his manicure set out for this shit. He would never let Al out in public like this again. Fuck… was he turning into an overbearing bitch? Oh well. Alastor needed someone looking out for his self care and personal hygiene if he refused to do so. “Why such dramatics! I think they are quite fetching.”

“They’re creepy,” Angel said, getting to work lathering Al’s hair with shampoo. He massaged the large tufts of red fur that were his deer ears, smiling faintly to himself as two hands pulled his hips into the Radio Demon’s lap. The softest groan of contentment made his heart melt. He definitely wasn’t gonna have trouble getting Alastor into the bath with him next time. “But… I’m glad ya like creepy shit.”

So Al thought his creepy fuckin spider feet were cute. 

Well, maybe they weren’t so bad after all. 

It took Alastor a solid half hour to convince him the dress was indeed wearable and not secretly imbedded with filth. He squinted at him in distrust and agreed to wear it but internally vowed to have it professionally dry cleaned after this. Cum dress. It was a cum dress. He just knew it. 

When they walked into the lobby, Angel found himself greeting dozens of open and friendly new faces. His heart hammered in his chest, the briefest burst of hope that maybe this shindig wouldn’t be a total flop and Charlie wouldn’t end the evening looking sad and disappointed.

Then the faces kept coming.

And coming.

And coming.

With each passing minute more and more demons showed up, and as it grew later, they became more and more… belligerent, destructive, and drunk

A dragon swinging from a chandelier. A zebra lookin fella and a three-eyed purple dude having a knife fight in the middle of the dance floor. An imp couple who kept trying to fuck on one of the tables. A spunky neon green bitch carrying a tray of colorful pills. A dozen cannibals who insisted on eating the flesh of another screaming guest. A tiny troll man who groped Angel’s chest before being scared shitless, literally, by Alastor. Gross. Cherri and Sir Pentious having a battle with explosives. 20 pig demons fistfighting…just…all at once…interchangeably. Several freaks, jerks, and dickwads making snarky sarcastic comments at every possible opportunity. A busty goth wolf taking a Voxtagram pic on the stairwell and then snarling and attacking randomly when someone accidentally photobombed her. Two weird twins holding hands who refused to speak in anything but cryptic whispers. And finally…just so many lousy assholes breaking shit. 

Oh Alastor put on a great show of concern for Charlie, making suggestions and worrying out loud if perhaps they should have considered limiting the number of fliers they handed out. The number was the problem. What went unsaid was that SHE had wanted to hand out as many fliers as possible. If anything this was her fault. He could twist it. And every twist of his words was a twist of a knife into Angel’s conscience.

At first, he tried to enjoy himself. He danced a little with Alastor, which apparently quite pleased the deer Demon. He chatted shit with Cherri. He threw back some of those colorful pills and some booze. He did a round of shots with Husk.

But Charlie’s face kept dropping. Her arms wrapped around herself. She had that look… that look that said “I’m an idiot. I’m a failure. Why did I think I could do something right?”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Al,” he hissed, grabbing Alastor’s arm and pulling him aside after the chandelier came crashing down from the ceiling. “This is enough. Ya gotta fix this. Help me get rid of these bastards before the news shows up or somethin.” 

“Hush, my dear, the party has only just begun. It’s quite an enthusiastic bunch, isn’t it?” And then he was gone, at Charlie’s side, making “helpful” suggestions that left her pale. Oh he could remove the guests by force. The hand gesture he made would bring back that memory of how he crushed a blimp into a horrific void. She shook her head. No no no. That wouldn’t be necessary. She could figure this out. It was…her fault after all.

Angel wanted to fucking scream.

He swiveled on his heel, hiked up the long cum dress in one hand, and mentally prepared himself to get rid of all these bastards himself. He’d fuckin fix it…

…and then he saw his father.

Henroin. 

The sight of the man Angel had spent his whole afterlife avoiding made his blood run cold. Henroin. His father. Their relationship, a web of unforgivable words and wounds. 

Fuck.

This was karma. This was fucking karma for being such a simpering bitch, for letting Alastor walk all over him. This was fucking karma. 

He leapt to Alastor’s side and jerked the Radio Demon around a corner and down a hall. “Al, fuckin listen to me—“

“Angel, my dear fellow. It’s quite rude to yank me around. One might say your behavior has been bordering on “nagging” tonight.”

Nagging? Okay, seriously. Fuck this guy.

“I’ll show ya fuckin ‘naggin’. Listen, Smiles, I’m beggin ya ta break this shit up now. Please. Please. I just. I need ya—“

“Angel, enough.”

A hard tone. A steady, unmoved expression. 

Oh, so that’s how it was gonna be. 

“Is this some kinda shit test, Al?” He said slowly. 

“I have absolutely no idea what that is, but I will not entertain this behavior further, mon amour.” The last two words were spoken with a bit of a sarcastic edge. “Are you trying to irritate me into fornicating with you again, Angel? This is growing increasingly tiresome. If you want attention, perhaps you might consider shutting up and waiting patiently.”

Angel punched him in the nose.

He did not regret it. What he did regret was the song, silky, angry, and sweet, that left his lips as he grabbed the Radio Demon by the neck and slammed him against the wall:

“Let me let you in on a little secret,  
I’ve left better men than you.  
Ya think ya got me wrapped around ya little finger,  
But honey I’m easy to lose.”

Alastor flipped their positions, a snarling expression somehow apparent on his grinning face. Angel took the Radio Demon’s cheeks in his hands and continued his mocking song even as a fist closed threateningly around his throat, claws tearing into his skin, razor sharp teeth burying themselves into that damn scar that never healed on the spot where his shoulder and neck met. He offered up more of his nape with a loud moan. Shadows coiled around him, black lithe tentacles squirming over his skin. A particularly large one traveled up his thigh under the dress and pushed into his clenched entrance. He yelped, back arching, clawing at Alastor’s back as the Radio Demon lifted his thigh with one free hand, letting the tentacle plunge deeper into Angel. It stretched his already sore and throbbing asshole, thrusting in and out harshly with little ceremony or tenderness. 

So Al wanted to play rough huh? His lips met the Radio Demon’s in a long, passionate kiss, whining softly when the other male bit his tongue. Blood like iron in their mouths.

“I’ve left men who fucked harder.  
I’ve left men I loved more.  
I’ve left men who were smarter.  
Men I promised to adore.

Ya think you’re so special,  
Cause I happen ta love ya now.  
Honey the men who love me,  
Always lose me somehow.

I move quick. I move fast. I move slippery,  
And if I choose ta hide ya won’t find me.”

The threat seemed to hang in the air. Heavy. The grip around his throat softened. There was panic in those red eyes. Brief but present. Definitely present. 

Panic.

Angel used Alastor’s instant of weakness to knee him in the stomach and slip out of his grasp, wrenching the shadowy tentacle out from inside him. He stomped on it. If Alastor was hurt physically, he gave absolutely no indication. Angry? Definitely. Injured. Seemingly not in the slightest. Angel smiled back at him, teeth pulled into an angry, sarcastic mockery of the Radio Demon’s face but with a little more sex appeal. 

“Ya think you’re strong.  
Ya think you’re smart.  
Ya think ya got control of my heart.

Baby,  
Ya captivate me.

But honey-boo,  
I intoxicate you.

Tell me whatcha gonna do if I leave you?  
Whatcha gonna do?  
Whatcha gonna do?

Whatcha gonna do if leave you?  
Whatcha gonna do?”

Alastor’s toothy smile widened but his eyes… they seemed to glow and slant. “Angel,” he said, the name sounding like a curse as it rolled from his lips. Those eyes, two strange narrowed slits of burning, buzzing rage that didn’t need clocks to be terrifying, flashed with something dangerous. Angel could feel his stomach drop, his body subconsciously shrinking under the tone he had never… heard before from the Radio Demon. And then…

“Sit.” 

His knees buckled beneath him.

It happened so quickly Angel barely had time to comprehend the betrayal of his own limbs. He desperately tried to stand but he… couldn’t. He couldn’t. His legs wouldn’t move. When he tried, it was like being sliced open with glass. They wouldn’t fucking move.

They couldn’t move.

“Smiles, w-what the fuck did ya do to me? What the fuck?” He started to say, but the dark, fierce look Alastor gave him said it all. The agreement… their deal. It all became so horribly clear. Alastor owned his soul. He was… Alastor’s property. And the Radio Demon was exerting that power in this moment. “D-daddy…no. I’m… sorry. Please—“

Strong slim arms scooped him up bridal style and for a moment he hoped Al was going to apologize for being a stubborn asshole and comfort him… or something, but the Radio Demon just deposited him unceremoniously into a chair and turned on his heel to rejoin the “festivities”. “Angel, my dear, you will not say another word until I give you permission.” A rigid back. A quick snap of his fingers. His shadows slithered along the walls, coiling protectively in dark spaces around Angel like secret bodyguards. 

No. No. No.

His throat burned when he tried to scream. It felt so dry and raw. His chest ached as if all the air had been knocked out of him. 

Humiliating. Terrifying. Infuriating.

Heartbreaking.

Trapped in a decorative chair in a quiet hallway, protected by shadows. Alone. He could hear crashing and banging and screaming. He put his face in his hands, shoulders sagging. This was… the absolute fucking worst.

“Anthony? Well, I’ll be damned.” A voice growled, low and edged in disgust. 

Angel looked up slowly, opening his mouth and closing it. No. No fucking way. 

“Ya know, at first I thought ya were Molly, but no, it’s just my disgusting f*ggot of a son. Your poor mother would have a heart attack if she could see ya now. Such a fucking disappointment.” Henroin, moved towards him, a massive black wall of a spider. Angel felt his entire body trembling. Memories of fists trying to beat the gay out of him, words that burned like bullets, and nights spent locked in dark closet to scare him into acting like a “real” man all came flooding back to him. Secret boyfriends who disappeared, family who disapproved, and a web of crime that was…impossible to escape. Henroin drew a gun casually from inside his jacket. “Pity about your eye, kiddo. How’s about we see if we can get the other eye to match?”

The gun shot echoed through the hotel, but the bullet stood frozen in midair, hanging in a shield of strange shadow. 

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t run. He couldn’t do anything but stare at this person he feared and despised.

“Now what the fuck have ya gotten yourself into this time, ya ugly gay whore?” Henroin scowled 

What indeed?

“Excuse me, sir, but it appears you have accidentally fired your gun in our hotel,” Alastor’s chipper voice chimed as he materialized behind Henroin. “How very embarrassing for you! I’m sure you must be exceedingly sorry and wish to leave.” 

A wide, demented smile.

The way his father fled from Alastor might have given Angel some comfort if he weren’t so… broken. The Radio Demon running to him, tilting up his chin, and telling him he could speak might have gotten some semblance of a response if tears weren’t running down his cheeks and choking him. 

Kisses all over his face, his neck, his shoulders. He didn’t respond, just stayed still. “Its over,” he finally said. “Ya wanna keep playin sugar daddy with my contract… that’s fine, but the rest of it… that’s over.” 

“Hush,” Alastor hissed, kissing him hard. “You are overwrought, my dear. If you had simply explained the issue, I would have absolutely taken care of the situation. I had no idea your father was here, nor the level of your apparent animosity towards each other. You might have told me.” 

“Don’t kiss me.”

“Angel, he didn’t harm you. I made certain no one could hurt you, mon amour.” Alastor licked away one of the tears gently. “I think today has been… particularly rough for you, my darling. I was a little terse with you after your… display.” Those eyes darkened. “Your very…very upsetting display.”

“I’m going back to Valentino,” Angel said plainly. “Ya got one job, Al. One job. Keepin me away from that man. That’s it. Val could do it. He—“

He choked back the tears. No. No more weakness. 

“Stop,” Alastor growled. “Stop threatening to LEAVE me, Angel. It is making me…very angry, and I do not know if I can control myself if you continue to do this. Stop provoking me.”

“I’d rather be hurt by someone who hates me than someone who loves me.” Angel said softly, wincing as Alastor scooped him up and carried him towards their bedroom. Al’s lips whispered soft French endearments into his neck. They tickled. 

“Mon Amour, shhh shhh,” Alastor whispered. “I’ll fix it. I promise I’ll fix it. Talk to me. Talk to me. Sing for me again. Let it all out.” 

Angel sobbed into Alastor’s neck. A memory flitted across his mind, a brief instant of running away when he was alive. When he was still young and hopeful…before he’d learned that no matter where you run… sin follows. Death follows. Crime follows.

“The year was 1931,  
And I was young and dumb and fun.  
Al, I still had all my zest for life.  
Thought I’d take my chance ta live it right.

Benny got me papers ta get on the train.  
Louie told me “baby, gotta change your name!”  
Molly had me dressed up like a lady doll.  
And Al, at nineteen I left them all,  
...behind...

I took the Crescent Limited,  
out of New York City.  
I guess ya could say,  
I was sittin’ pretty.

And every single day,  
ta myself I would pray,  
it's gonna be okay,  
you're goin’ far away.  
you're goin’ far away.

But ya end right back where ya started,  
As they say home is where the heart is,  
And all of my runnin did nothin but make me weaker,  
And all of my dreamin’, jazz music swingin, just made me cheaper.

I took the Crescent Limited,,  
out of New York City.  
I guess you could say,  
I was sittin’ pretty.

And every single day,  
ta myself I would pray,  
it's gonna be okay,  
you're goin’ far away,  
you're goin’ far away.

Ya wanna find somethin worth keepin,  
But dreams are just meant fa sleepin,  
And every fella on earth will hurt you,  
And every chance ya take will just prove...  
...You’re a failure...

You’re a failure.

I took the Crescent Limited,  
out of New York City.  
I thought I’d be free,  
I’d be sittin pretty,  
But all that I found,  
Is that life swings around,  
And around and around,  
...and around...”

They were in the bedroom. Alastor laid him down on the mattress and slowly peeled away the dress. He felt so… exposed.. under the Radio Demon’s calm, steady gaze. His body was petted, kissed and soothed into compliance. His tears were lapped from his cheeks. Deep, tender kisses that tasted like spice and promises. 

Life swings around and around. 

And around…

——

Kudos and Comment if you enjoyed it!

I feast upon your words.


	9. Whatcha Gonna Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel is sick of being a pawn. Time to become a player in this sick little game.

Chapter 9

That night Alastor “saved” the hotel. At least that’s how Charlie and the others saw it. The Radio Demon swept in like some sorta galant knight and herded out all of their unwanted guests. He corralled them using laughing teeth, snapping instruments, music notes that shrieked, and the buzzy tone of a broadcast sounding throughout hell, promising a night of carnage. But the Radio Demon, as promised, harmed none, and the few attendees genuinely interested in redemption found themselves afforded all smiles and gratitude for their attendance.

Angel laid in bed a long while after Alastor left the room to… fix things. Fix things. Ha! What a fuckin’ riot. He could feel those sweet “amour”s and “cher”s tickling his skin where Alastor whispered them; could smell the lingering scent of the shampoo he’d scrubbed into the Radio Demon’s hair, woodsy and warm. The kisses. The fingers. The stroking and comforting. Al had learned, at some point, how to play him like a piano, how to pry love and contentment from unwilling keys. How to manipulate him into playing whatever song he desired. No. No more. 

He would not be played.

When he finally managed to sit up, to stitch the pieces of the night into a cohesive whole, and to formulate a course of action, Angel decided it was time to be productive.

He glanced at himself in the mirror. A torn dress. Blood on his lips. Tousled hair. Mascara running down his cheeks.

He looked like such a fuckin mess.

Oh fucking well. 

He went rummaging through his vanity and stuffed a container of pills into his tit fluff for later, wiped at the the running mascara with a tissue, and ran his fingers through his tangled white locks.

Showtime. 

His steps wavered at first. He swayed, stumbled, and caught himself. Everything ached. Too much fighting. Too much drinking. Too much getting tentacle fucked. 

But he had to get ahold of himself. He had to be stronger. He straightened his back and tried to move…gracefully… to smile through the pain. 

When he finally managed to make it downstairs, he found Charlie tearfully thanking the Radio Demon. He narrowly resisted the urge to throw a champagne glass at the bastard. No. No. Now was not the time for tantrums. He needed to… make the peace. Smooth shit over. He approached quietly, blinking when Charlie gasped aloud the second she laid eyes on him. That bad huh?

“Angel! You—“

“Look like shit? Yeah, toots. It’s been a rough night fa all of us, but how’s about ya tell me what I can do ta put this train wreck back together, huh? No sense beatin’ ya self up about it, babes. Now ya know what not ta do fa next time,” he said, offering Charlie a weak, awkward smile. Comforting folks didn’t come easy to him, but he was trying. 

“Angel, my dear dear fellow, why, you should be in bed!” Alastor said brightly, studying him with narrowed prying eyes and cocking his head to the side . “Don’t you worry about a thing, my dear. Nifty is already managing all of the mess at top speed and… I don’t think you are quite well enough to be up and about. Wouldn’t you agree?” Before Angel could say a sing damn word, a slim arm hooked around his waist and tugged him, rather roughly, towards the staircase. If Al thought he could get away with scooping him up bridal style and carrying his tall, unwilling ass, up the stairs in front of Charlie, Angel was sure he would have done so. 

But Charlie was watching.

Angel dug his heels into the tacky carpet. 

“A-Al is right, Angel. We’ve got it all managed down here.” Charlie said, but her voice quavered with uncertainty. Her eyes flitted to the Radio Demon, as if to get some sort of clarification. This bastard had the poor princess all mixed up and confused. 

“Nah, I feel just fine,” Angel said, smiling his brightest and most playful smile. He turned in Al’s arms and planted a kiss on the Radio Demon’s cheek, gently massaging one of those soft ears and running fingers through the man’s blunt red hair. Alastor stiffened at first, suspicious, but soon he could feel The other man relaxing under the touch, melting into that comforting and familiar warmth. Good. “Don’t ya worry about me, Deer Daddy. I’m alright. Charlie, why don’t ya have a seat. I’ll whip up all of yous somethin ta eat, alright? Ma always said a good sauce can cure any mood and I got all the stuff ta make it in the kitchen.” His eyes softened as she perked up ever so slightly. Poor Charlie. She really needed a win. He wished he could give it to her, but he had his own problems right now. 

With a shimmy and a wiggle, he unraveled himself from Alastor’s hold and sashayed into the kitchen. The Radio Demon remained close on his heels. 

He reached a hand behind him, feeling gloved fingers entwine with his own the second he offered that small olive branch.

The kitchen doors swung shut behind them.

“Angel…?” That charming transatlantic accent chimed his name in such an uncertain tone, almost wavering. Angel might have felt guilty if he weren’t so…

“Si, amore mio?” Angel answered with seeming ease, grabbing his ingredients from the refrigerator. He set them down on the counter as arms looped around him from behind, pulling him close into a desperate iron grip. Alastor hugged him tightly, those red ears laying flat against his Karen hair in what Angel could only assume was a sign of genuine distress. “Oh Al, it’s alright. I forgive ya.”

And just like that, the distress was gone. The ears perked forward, the smile brightened, and the touch tightened. 

Talk about turning on a dime.

Alastor gently nipped the throbbing spot on Angel’s nape. “Is that so, my dear,” he said, ginning from ear to ear. “Splendid!”

“Of course.” Angel smiled back, all ease and docility. “Ya only did it cause I overstepped. Pushed ya buttons a little too hard. Even brought up… leavin’.” 

Did Alastor’s teeth suddenly feel sharper as they nipped his skin?

Did his eyes flash with an anger that seemed far too strong and far too deep, like an old grudge resurfacing? Pieces of his song rolled through his mind like a skipping tape.

I took the Crescent Limited…  
the Crescent Limited…  
the Crescent Limited.

“Yes,” Alastor said through a carefully gritted grin. The words sounded muffled behind his teeth. “I’m afraid I might have overreacted to some of your silly, empty threats.” Hard, stark laughter accompanied by a jaunty laugh track emanating from the his red cane. “After all, my dear, this is hell and I could always find you if you ran away from me. Always.” 

A threat. 

He couldn’t let Alastor rile him up. Don’t argue. Don’t fight. Just let him win this one.

“Of course not, Smiles.” Angel pecked his cheek, letting the kiss linger. “I’m yours, Daddy. All yours. Don’t worry, I won’t forget that again.” Suspicion. Imperceivable to most, but Angel caught it in the sideways look Alastor gave him as his lips brushed the deer demon’s cheek. A pity he wasn’t just a little bit stupider. “Now, why don’t ya wait with the others. Put ya feet up. Ya haven’t lived until ya tried my sauce. I know ya like a bit of extra heat in ya things, so I’ll add a little kick ta it, alright?” He gestured to some red pepper flakes amongst his batch of ingredients. 

Alastor’s shoulders relaxed. “Very well, my dear. Do let me know if you require any assistance.”

And just like that he was gone.

Angel returned his attention to cooking. 

He’d give it a kick alright. 

Stir the sauce.  
Stir the sauce.  
A dash of this.  
A hint of that. 

Stir the sauce.  
Stir the sauce.  
Right and left.  
Right and left. 

Around and around and around. 

Wait…

Now Again

-

Some time later, he sat at the dining room table, long legs crossed as he slowly sipped from a glass of red wine. His eyes scanned down the length of the table, flicking over the awed expressions on everyone’s faces as they devoured his cooking. The room felt companionable despite its luxurious state, all red velvets and tassels hanging from every surface. The table, a dark rich wood, felt so very long. He’d chosen to sit at the head opposite of Alastor. It felt…fitting… the both of them facing each other with this long rift between them. 

Compliments abounded, but his focus fell solely on Alastor. Alastor who had just set down his fork. Alastor who had happily finished his meal. Alastor who seemed so very pleased with Angel playing the obedient housewife.

Well, Angel’s Mama was a saint, but he refused to be anything like her.

Alastor would learn they could be partners or nothing at all. 

“How ya like it, Smiles,” he purred, smiling sweetly. Oh he had seen how Alastor subtly swapped his bowl with Husk’s at the beginning of the meal… just in case. Sweet, really.. This bastard knew him so well. 

Not well enough.

“Fantastic, my dear!” Alastor purred, tilting his head to the side. His eyes narrowed, clearly just then making note that Angel had simply moved his own food around in the bowl. Perhaps he should have noticed sooner, but Angel had been sure to sit as far away as possible and to enliven the group with eager, saucy banter, gesturing big and laughing loud throughout the entire meal. “Your cooking is the bees knees. Why, I have never had such a fine meal in Hell. It’s a shame you haven’t touched your own food.”

“Watching my figure for ya.” 

Nifty went down first, followed by Baxter, Husk, Vaggie, and Charlie. It happened suddenly and without warning. A shit ton of hell’s finest sleeping pills would do that to a Demon. They all slumped over the table, lids shut, bodies slack. Alastor’s ears flattened. His eyes darted about, shadows springing up behind him, but the lids were growing heavy. So very heavy. “Angel, what have you—“

He didn’t get the chance to finish that sentence. 

Angel stood and smoothed down his ruined dress. He went down the line of bodies, checking their positions, their pulses, and their breathing. He stopped last at Alastor. No more smile on that serene face. He ran his fingers along the Radio Demon’s cheek. “Sorry, smiles, but yer the one who wanted ta play games.” He leaned down, bringing his lips to the Radio Demon’s ear. “I love ya, handsome,” he whispered. “Don’t cause too much fuss for poor Charlie when ya start tryin’ ta find me.”

He had a few hours at most before the Radio Demon woke up. He darted around his room, tossing a few small essentials into his bag, stuffing it full of all the cash he had saved from pocketing a portion of Alastor’s payments on his credit card. It was Al’s own fault for only dealin in paper.. Angel could make cash disappear.

Any good sugar baby knew: always save for a rainy day because you’ll never know when ya gotta get away.

He grabbed Fat Nuggets, tucked the tiny pig under his arm, and was out the front door in five minutes. 

Thank god he knew the route to Valentino’s place like the back of his hand, because his vision was too clouded by tears to see a damn thing.

-

“Angel, baby, what a state you’re in. Come in, honey. Take a seat. Let Daddy have a look at you,” Valentino’s voice, so low and sonorous, could send shivers down any spine. Angel lightly batted away the hands reaching for him and stepped further into the porn studio. Valentino had a lot of places, but this one by far was Angel’s least favorite. The walls were dark and every piece of furniture was draped in some ridiculous animal print or an outrageous shade of pink. Angel liked pink. Loved pink. But this place look like a teenage girl had designed it. Oh…maybe Velvet.

Vox sat on the couch, his glowing square head lighting up with interest at the sight of the spider entering in a torn dress and running mascara. A pink, tacky heart-shaped couch. Yuck.

Angel took a seat in a chair shaped like some ridiculous giant stiletto heel, hot pink and lined in fluffy zebra print. He held fat Nuggets against his chest, watching Valentino approach with the rolling, graceful gate of a predator stalking its prey. 

“So, Angel Cakes,” he purred, running a hand down Angel’s cheek. “Why don’t we get you all cleaned up and in a week, maybe two, we can put you on the schedule. I think you need a long rest and plenty of fun, baby. Just sign this little piece of paper, and let Daddy take care of you.”

Angel paused, studying the contract. “Nah, no thanks. I ain’t here fa that,” he said, leaning back in the shoe chair, and stroking the pig in his lap. His confidence was perhaps the most confusing thing about this whole situation. Valentino look baffled for a moment, and then angry, but he pushed it down easily and kept his charming smile. 

“Just wanted to see me then, Baby,” he purred. “Well, we can talk about the other stuff later. A nice hot bath would do you wonders. Maybe something to loosen you up as well. When is the last time you felt all your problems melt away in that perfect high, hm?”

“Actually, I’m here fa you,” Angel said simply, pointing at Vox.

Valentino used to scare him, it was true, but somehow… somehow without the pimp-ho contact, without the shackles, and without all that desperate need for security and belonging, he couldn’t give less of a shit about the Moth Demon. He had other shit to worry about, and a pimp, no matter how powerful, just didn’t make the cut for the lost of shit currently worrying him. 

He didn’t want to placate, to beg, and to simper. He wanted to be a player in the game, not a pawn.

“What?” Valentino’s head swiveled around to stare at his boyfriend in disgust. “Why?”

Vox sat up straighter, and then moved to dodge a kick to his screen from Valentino. “Me? Well, how can I be of service?” He said, taking Angel’s hand and shooting a look of unbridled amusement at his fuming partner. “I don’t suppose you’re looking to cut out the middle man and attain a much better sugar daddy?” He teased. “Val, sit. We’re having a conversation.”

Valentino drew his gun. 

“I’m not here fa a sugah Daddy, actually.” Angel said, withdrawing his hand and smiling coolly. The golden tooth glinted in the light. He stroked Fat Nuggets quietly, shoulders back and gaze level. He had done plenty of jobs before with plenty of sharks, and sharks were really all the same. They attacked when they smelled blood in the water. “But I thought I could use ya help with somethin. A fun little prank, ya might say. Val, you’ll like this too. It’s a bit of a dick move, but hasn’t the Radio Demon been a thorn in ya side, Vox. And Val, don’t ya wanna see him really fuckin suffer? No contracts. No deals. Sick of that superior fuckin smile? I know how ta make him furious.”

Vox sat down. Valentino considered and tucked away his gun, keeping a hand on it just in case.

“Sounds very fun,” Vox said with a laugh, crossing his arms to hide his glee. “What is your suggestion?”

“Simple. Help me disappear for a little while. A month, I think. Put me on the tv in flashing snips every time he passes an electronics store, throw me up on billboards promoting random shit in neon lights, and have a couple look-a-likes dancin’ at the club advertised as myself. I don’t care. I don’t even need a percentage. Just hide me from him.” He watched their expressions, both curious but skeptical. “Trust me, fellas. It will make him fuckin furious. He’s gonna lose his fuckin shit. He—“ he paused. He had been about to say “loves me” but he knew they wouldn’t completely understand. Not really. “He’s very possessive of his things, and I’m his favorite thing. Satan only knows why, but them’s the breaks. He doesn’t think I can leave him. We’re gonna show him just how powerless he is.” 

Powerless.

That word got them. That was the fear they all understood, the fear of being powerless. In this afterlife, where the strong ripped apart, used, and abused the weak, everyone’s greatest fear was being powerless. Those at the top knew how far the fall to the bottom would be. They feared it, that fall.

Powerless.

Vox leaned back. “Angel, can we get ya in the studio for a shampoo commercial tomorrow?” 

“Can’t wait ta shine on that silva’ screen, Vox,” Angel said with a wide grin. After all, you’re never fully dressed without a smile. 

Whatcha gonna do if I leave you? 

Whatcha gonna do? 

Whatcha gonna do?

———

Authors Note: Kudos and Comment if you enjoyed it. 

Angel didn’t take any chances with the food which... is kinda fucked.


	10. Showtime

Author’s Note: Say it with me: I. Have. No. Self. Control. None. This is what I spent my entire weekend doing. Oh my god... and now I’m itching to write the next chapter. 

Oh well. I love you all for journeying down this mad rabbit hole with me.

As always, Kudos and Comment if you enjoy!

———

Chapter 10

Vox set him up in the penthouse of some strange, towering skyscraper that appeared to be unmarked by Vox Media’s branding or insignia. It was a real fancy place with a sleek modern interior: an updated kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances, a large white couch that made Angel absolutely too anxious about spilling something on it, and a limited number of personal effects. In one of the dark interior rooms, screens covered the three of the four walls, depicting street views throughout the city. Hidden cameras everywhere. Go figure. 

The windows in the living room were… in a word…Massive. Wall length. A brief clarification from Vox assured him that even if someone were this high up, vision through the window was one way only. Good. The view was fantastic, high enough to almost touch one of those eerie red pentagrams in the sky, overlooking the whole of their sprawling city sector. Black buildings, red backdrops, and orange-gold windows as far as the eye could see. Billboards promised products in neon lights alongside sex, drugs, and gambling. Soon his face would shine on silver screens and in neon lights, not just in the seedy underbelly of hell’s seedy sexy underbelly, but everywhere. Everywhere Alastor went, he would be there, always just out of reach.

But there was only one sight that Angel smiled to see: that of the lofty, rundown Hazbin Hotel standing in clear view. He had a front row seat to the show, and Alastor would never know. 

He placed a hand against the glass. So close and yet so remote.

Funny, he had forgotten to notice he was missing a glove. Now, when had that happened? 

He felt Valentino’s hand run over his waist, felt those fingers dig into his hip, lingering. He batted it away. 

“Val, hands off. Vox, ya wanna play this game then neither of ya are gonna touch me,” he said simply. “This ain’t a game of princess in the motha fuckin tower, and if ya wanna make it that, well, you’ll ruin the fun real fuckin quick. Ya want me participatin’ in the game, or he’ll find me before the day is out and walk around all fuckin superior and arrogant.” 

“Val, baby, you heard him,” Vox chimed, rather merrily. 

Angel ignored the crash of glass and buzz of electricity that sounded behind him, ignored the shouting that followed and the persistent back and forth. He turned after some time. “Come ova’ here, boys. Any second now. Vox, for fuck’s sake, can ya still see with that crack?” 

A grumble of affirmative. He’d have to patch the idiot up later. He turned his back to the two bickering overlords and tapped the glass lightly with one finger. They went silent.

“Baby, what exactly are we looking at?” Valentino purred, tone edged with mocking and thinly veiled irritation. “You want us to watch him leave the house?”

Then the ground shook. 

Black slithering masses erupted from voids and cracks on hell’s surface, surrounding the perimeter of the hotel. Poor Charlie. Symbols, indecipherable, flitted through the air which hung heavy with an eerie constant buzzing: the shrieking tuning of a radio. Neon shadows of every shape and size painted hell with a brush of blue, pink, purple, and green.

The Broadcast had begun…

And all of Hell was screaming. 

He could feel Vox and Valentino staring at him, mouths slightly agape. “Well, fellas,” he said, turning to face them, placing two hands on his hips and crossing his other pair of arms. “It’s showtime.” 

Alastor’s voice, slow, chilling, and buzzing with an echo of interference, played throughout hell:

“Darling,  
come out of your hiding spot.  
I know that we fight a lot,  
but you’re my sweetie pie.

Mon Angie,  
Come home to me.  
I promise you’ll see,  
I can change.”

Screaming in the background. The sound of canned laughter morphing into something twisted and broken.

“Should anyone come across the infamous Angel Dust, please be advised there is a weighty reward for his safe return… and punishment for those who see but do not say,” Alastor made the announcement with all of the pep and perfect diction of a 1930s Radio Host. There was a pause, then a deeper, more insidious tone. “And Angel, my dear, you have 24 hours before… I become very angry.”

Angel smirked slowly. “Ain’t he fuckin sexy?” He said to the two overlords with a loud laugh, fanning himself. They looked at each other, and then at him, staring wide-eyed. “Well, we’ll see how long that entitled fuckin’ attitude of his lasts. My arrogant bastard won’t be so confident soon enough.”

In that moment, both Vox and Valentino suspected they might have gotten in over their heads, but neither would say anything for fear of admitting weakness to the other. 

—

Charlie woke up to the hotel collapsing around her. Furniture tipped, fine China spilled from a cabinet, and the chandelier that had just been fixed made a horrible splintering sound as it crashed to the floor once again. 

Her mind felt so foggy. She remembered Angel sitting at the head of the table, looking strangely luminous despite his “hot mess” appearance. His smile had seemed so bright, his gestures so big, and his humor so easy and relaxed.  
And yet…

Did he drug them all? Why?

Where was he?

She ran first to Vaggie, scooping up the slight moth demon in her arms and holding her girlfriend tightly against her breast. Vaggie. She looked so pretty when she slept. So peaceful. She had to protect Vaggie. She had to protect everyone.

And then she saw the source of all this mayhem.

Alastor. The Radio Demon was taller now, limbs spindly and stretching, his horns growing and crisscrossing like sharp wires. His eyes, the dials of a radio. His smile, ghastly rows of needle teeth. Standing at the center of madness, he seemed like a conductor, orchestrating the most horrific concert she had ever seen. 

Screams in the air. Whose? She did not know. 

She only heard the end of his radio segment. “—Very angry.”

“Al?” she cried, setting Vaggie down carefully and running to him. “You have to stop! You’re going to hurt someone.” 

He looked at her, the smile broadening in a manner that seemed not quite willing, not quite genuine. His neck snapped, cocking too far to the side. A pause. A concerted effort to morph himself back into his regular form, his regular size. It looked like it hurt, like he was balling a fist filled with glass. “Ah, my apologies Miss Magne. It appears we have lost our dear Angel Dust and I am in quite a state.”

“A—Angel? Where is he?”

“I do not know,” he said, pausing for a few beats. “But never fear, my charming Demon gal. I am off to go searching for my dearly beloved. Do let me know if you receive any hints as to his location.” He bowed slightly to her before striding primly towards the door.

“Stop. Wait,” she said slowly, a royal decree on her tongue. He paused. Waited. “Why did he run, Al? What… what did you do?” 

“…”

“Alastor, I c-command you tell me honestly and c-clearly what you… did,” she commanded, stomping her foot for emphasis. It sounded hollow even to her.

“I played mind games with him to test his loyalty and devotion,” he said plainly and succinctly after a few beats too long. “It backfired horribly and now he has run off to teach me a lesson.”

“Al,” she whispered. “Al I know that’s just part of it, but even that is… so toxic. You aren’t good for each other.”

“Charlie, my dear,” Alastor said, eyes narrowing even as his grin widened. His smile made her blood run cold. Feral. A feral smile. “He ruthlessly poisoned every single one of us and made a glorious little escape. So well acted! So charming! So enthralling! If anything, I think we are absolutely perfect for each other. Charlie, I love him, and I cannot wait to get my hands on him.”

She watched Al leave the hotel, back rigid with anger. Neon shadows danced around him carrying brass instruments in a sequence of laughing, smiling music. Red notes circled the air, sounding too jaunty for all the rage she could see boiling under his surface. 

So much rage… and something else…

Passion?

-

As Angel predicted, Alastor first hit up Valentino’s clubs and porn studios. “Val, if ya wanna keep all your shit in tact, just open the door for him and let him do whatever the fuck he wants,” Angel had warned the moth pimp on that first day. In his hand, a long red cigarette hung delicately between two fingers. It emitted a strange neon green smoke that curled around him like an embrace. “If he thinks yer hidin’ me, he’ll rip the whole place apart tryin ta find me.”

“Baby, you seriously expect me to let that nobody march into my establishments?” Val had said, eying the cigarette from over his heart-shaped sunglasses. Angel’s newest high seemed to keep him sated, but it couldn’t last forever. He would run out soon… and Val would be there with plenty of promises. Still, the deadline for the contact was already fast approaching and he had made… little progress. 

“If ya don’t, he’ll make it real inconvenient for ya, but whateva’. Not my money ta worry about.” Angel had shrugged, tapping the red dust into an ashtray.

Valentino soon regretted not listening to him.

The Booty Palace was the first to crumble, followed by Party Party XXX, and Valentino’s Playground. Angel watched Alastor on the many screens in the dark room, eyes following the ways in which the Radio Demon sent his shadows to sweep the perimeter, tore apart the flesh and bone of anyone who dared to approach him in his vicious, mad state, and broadcasted the sounds of his carnage throughout hell, always paired with a reminder that it would all go away when Angel was either returned or found. 

The tentacles that had so eagerly bound and thrust into him could be seen crushing buildings, swallowing them into a void that Angel often wondered about. That void. What was inside that void Alastor so effortlessly controlled?

The eyes, those blazing angry eyes, and that sharp vicious smile never seemed to waver… until every last club and studio had been searched, pulverized, and found wanting. Then the fun really began.

The panic set in.

On the third day, Angel sat next to Vox in the dark room, leaning back in a swivel chair while dressed in his old mafia digs. He could see Al approaching Times Pentagram, could see the many large looming screens all around the Radio Demon, whose brows were furrowed despite his smile. After ripping through all of Valentino’s establishments, he still hadn’t managed to find Angel Dust.

Angel could see the crazed panic starting to enter this wild eyes, the pupils seeming to get smaller. Almost there. Almost. Almost.

“Now,” he said, snapping his fingers. 

Vox grinned. His screen glowed. 

Every screen around Alastor flickered, images switching to a smiling picturesque scene of Angel Dust smiling broadly, selling some sort of product. The denizens of hell stared in awe at the pretty smiling spider, the “infamous Angel Dust” on the silver screen… mocking the Radio Demon.

At first, Alastor went very still. The smarter of the demons around him took the opportunity to run. Then, his shoulders began shaking.

“Is he crying?” Vox asked, bemused.

“No.” Angel smiled, crossing his arms.

He was laughing.

Laughing and laughing and laughing. 

And somehow, that fact made Vox’s stomach drop. The Radio Demon was laughing, and that laugh sounded throughout all of hell like a battle cry. 

-

Alastor purchased a television. 

Husk was the first to notice and he didn’t say a damn word. Ever since Angel disappeared, the Radio Demon had been balancing on a knife’s edge of sanity, and he wasn’t gonna get caught in the fuckin crossfire. He knew how to mind his own business. 

He did pour the man a strong drink without being asked, though. Judging by the bags forming under Alastor’s wild eyes, and his twitchier than usual paranoia, the bastard fuckin needed it. Alastor drank the liquor like it was water.

Husk soon realized why he bought the television when Angel appeared on the screen one day, smiling brightly and advertising some frilly lingerie. Fuck, this was sick. Those strange bi colored eyes appeared on the screen just as Alastor was walking past it. 

The song that left Alastor’s lips, a twisted rendition of his usual jaunty tunes, ached with pain and longing:

Alastor: 

“Darling I won’t lose you  
You know what made me choose you  
You’re my you’re my  
You’re my one and only…”

And then, much to Husk’s dismay, the half-nude Angel in the television appeared to answer coyly, the strap of a brazier slipping off his shoulder:

Angel:

“You’re the only one for me,  
But baby I can easily,  
Leave.  
Now ain’t that funny, Honey?  
Cause I know I know I know  
You love me more than I love you~”

What kind of sick, fucked up game were these two playing? Husk slunk back behind the bar, ducking out of sight. Fuck no, he was too hungover for this shit, and the guttural scream of Alastor’s fury didn’t sound too appealing either. 

The rest of Alastor’s song gave him chills. He sure hoped Angel was prepared for all the fire he was igniting, because this didn’t feel like it would end well for anyone.

Alastor:

“When I get my hands on you  
I swear to god I’ll make you—  
Oh Charlie, didn’t see ya there  
My dear heart, gave me a scare.  
What’s that’s? No no no-no-no-no.  
I’d never hurt my dearest so.  
You misheard. Misunderstood.  
Now run along and do some good.

Anthony,  
You’re driving me crazy.  
Anthony,  
come home to “daddy”.  
I’m going mad, can’t you see?  
Anthony!

Doppelgängers everywhere  
copycats of every stair  
I swear. I swear I’ll make you...  
Learn your place. Learn your position.  
In our little proposition,  
You are mine.  
When you come home, you’ll learn this time. 

I’ll tear this fucking place apart  
Looking for my missing heart.  
Hell hath no fury like a horned man scorned.  
Angel, you’ll be cryin when your wings are torn.”

Nope nope nope. Husk, ever the cat, slid into a dark cabinet and threw back a swig of whiskey. He was too old for this shit.

-

“Perhaps you should look pained in this ad,” Vox suggested one day on their makeshift set. Alastor had… ruined the majority of his other establishments in a short time, and fighting with the unpredictable Radio Demon seemed like it would tarnish the fun of his descent into madness. This was fun, right? “Something to really ruffle his feathers.”

“Trust me, sugah. The happier I look, the angrier he’ll be. Smilin is ten times more effective than frownin’,” Angel said, placing some finishing touches on his makeup. He looked quite lovely this day, particularly radiant. Vox mentally filed away that he might try to convince Angel to become his own “mistress” again, but then thought better of it. Angel had not responded well to such inquiries and listening to the bossy spider was rather titillating at the moment. Still, he was skeptical of this outlook the spider had on their advertisements. Not that it hadn’t worked marvelously thus far, but still…He made a face. Angel sighed and set down a tube of blood red lipstick. “What pisses ya off more when Val “breaks up” with ya: pictures of him lookin mopey or pictures of him grinnin and clubbin.” 

Oh! Now he understood. Quite right.

“Point taken,” Vox said, reaching out to touch Angel’s currently wavy hair. The spider deftly batted his hand away. Saucy minx. “How about some sexy male extras?”

“Just one fella for this one, plus an… accessory,” Angel stood, straightening his soft pink apron. Vox blinked. “Velvet, where’s the cute kid?”

“A… family?” 

“Yep. His greatest fuckin’ fear. I leave him and actually end up in a real happy relationship with someone else. He’ll hate it. When will ya stop fuckin questionin’ me? I know what I’m doin, Vox. ‘sides, this is a breakfast cereal commercial. Have some fuckin’ class,” Angel spoke so quickly, so assuredly, that Vox wondered if Valentino kept him down because the pretty demon had so much…potential. He captivated— charmed. Irritated too. It was confusing as hell. Angel perked up as Vevet bounded over carrying what appeared to be a small demon child. Shit, he hoped she didn’t hurt the kid. Angel beamed. “Hey kiddo, today I’m ya papa… Or mama. Whatever ya wanna call me is fine. I don’t really give a shit. This kid is fuckin’ adorable. Fuckin’ albino deer. Fuck, I could cry. Shut up, Vox. I swear ta God I’ll shoot ya screen. Fuck this kid is adorable. He’s like a mini white fuckin Alastor. Where the fuck did ya find this kid, Velvet? Did ya do this on purpose? I’m dyin’ ova’ here.” 

He took a seat by Valentino as they shot the commercial. Watching Angel act made him keenly aware once again why Val was miffed he had not responded favorably to resigning that contract of theirs. The spider really did have acting chops even with all his clothes on. Though Vox would have preferred to see them off. 

“Didn’t know he liked kids,” Vox said casually.

“Anything sweet, small, and endearing,” Valentino quipped, crossing his arms. “He’s not responding to any of my offers. Baby, I think he has it too good. Perhaps we should remind him he has nowhere to go when this month ends.”

“I don’t know. I think he has a plan,” Vox said, rolling his eyes when his lover cast him a dangerous glare. “Ask him then.” 

Valentino approached Angel as the shoot came to a close, noting how the spider demon seemed to vibrate with energy. Now if only he could get the idiot back on the stage where he belonged. “Baby. Baby. Have you given any thought to what you wanna do when the month is over?” He purred, looping an arm around Angel’s waist. “Really, why not just sign on with me now. We can finish out your little game, sugar, but you’ll have a real nice and safe set up after it’s all said and done.”

Angel smiled, meeting Valentino’s eyes with a bright laugh. “Thanks fa the offer, Mistah Val,” he said, wrenching himself out of Valentino’s arms. “But I don’t think ya quite understand. Ya see, at the end of the month—“ Angel grabbed a powder puff and reapplied some makeup to his cheeks. “I’m goin back ta him.”

“What…? You…wait…”

Angel set down the powder puff, examining himself in the mirror. “Ya seem surprised.”

“Are the drugs that good, baby?” Now he was curious.

“Nah, but I love the fuckin bastard. If he wants ta play games, then we can play fuckin games. He’ll just hafta learn that he ain’t always gonna win. In fact, I think I play harder than he expected.” Angel smiled slowly, straightening his back.

“Baby, he’s going to mangle you. I know I would.” Val said slowly.

“Mmm. Kinky. And yeah, probably,” Angel tossed Vox a pink duffel bag and threw on a pair of round black rimmed sunglasses with hot pink reflective lenses. “He can fuck me, bite me, punish me as hard and as long as he wants. I already fuckin’ won this round. I broke his heart. Now we’re fuckin’ even.”

Valentino did not get the contract signed within the allotted time, and really, though he would never say this aloud, he started to feel that perhaps it was for the best. 

Crazy fuckin bitch.

-

Every night, when Angel laid in the hard bed under those cold monochrome blankets, the weight of his own actions finally took hold of him. He curled up under the dark veil of the comforter and cried himself to sleep, body trembling from head to toe. He cried because his heart still ached. He cried because hurting Alastor felt so…painful. He cried because even though everything was going according to plan, he didn’t feel any better. He cried because every day he yearned for that smiling bastard. 

What if Alastor stopped being angry before the end of the month? What if apathy set in? What if he fell out of this horrific toxic love? What would Angel do then? Play it off, he supposed. Let it just… end quietly. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He hated himself for the thrill he felt every time Alastor snapped in the streets, every time he crushed a city block, and every time his angry songs filled the air. Those songs that burned and terrorized so many felt like a balm to Angel. 

He was sick. So sick.

He counted down the days, thrilling in every bout of rage, in the wild eyes, and in the broken songs. 

But as the month came to a close, in the last week he saw a change that horrified him. Alastor stopped reacting.

He stopped reacting.

No more manic laughter. No more destruction. No more wild-eyed violence. 

Silence. 

He stopped pausing when Angel’s face appeared on the silver screen, stopped showing up to see if the latest copycat act in Valentino’s club was actually Angel, and stopped playing those songs that had been… such a strange comfort despite all of their dark threats. 

Angel began to panic.

On the last day, as he dressed quietly in a casual daytime outfit, he could feel the nausea boiling inside him. The walk felt too long, and the eyes, watching his trek to the hotel, too numerous to count. He carried Fat Nuggets under one arm and dragged a suitcase with another to the front door of the Hazbin Hotel.

With an extra plump of his tit fluff and a shaky sigh, he plastered on his brightest smile and let himself inside. 

Showtime.

———

Author’s Note: I am a zombie. I should probably go to sleep. 

Please Kudos and Comment if you enjoy.

I read and feast upon every review. I try to respond to all of them too, but that’s mostly because I love talking and engaging with people about my own writing because I’m secretly full of myself. It’s fine. Shhhh it’s fine. This is fine.


	11. What the ever-loving fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel and Alastor’s... confrontation.

Author’s Note: -face in hands- Don’t judge me.

———

Chapter 11

Shoulders back. No slouching. Chin up. Keep that smile glowing. This foyer was his stage and he had a part to play.

He hadn’t accounted for Vaggie.

To say he was caught off guard by being bodily tackled to the ground by a slender moth demon and a spear pressed against his throat was an understatement. Thankfully, he managed to toss Fat Nuggets into Charlie’s arms in the split second it took for his back to hit that awful carpet. “Oof! Seriously, toots? What the fuck have ya been eatin’? Led?”

“Spiked pasta,” she snarled back, a foot pressed against his stomach, pinning him in place. Well shit, he probably should have known she’d carry a fuckin grudge. 

“Oh, ya seriously still upset about that? Shit, I thought ya might be over it by now. Talk about a shitty welcome,” he said softly, laughing and pushing the spear away from his throat. “Ya gonna let me up? Is Fat Nuggets alright?”

Charlie hurried forward, eyes wide and round. “I got him. He’s fine. A little startled. Vaggie, let him up. Let him up. Angel, we were so worried about you,” she rambled anxiously, pulling him to his feet and tugging him along into the living room. “Here, have a seat on the couch. Are you alright? We’re so happy to see you. Where have you been? Oh! Let me get Fat Nuggets to your old room for you. Do you need something to drink? Husk, get him some water.”

He watched, bemused, as Charlie sprinted from the room with his precious little pig. Well, at least he knew Fat Nuggets was safe with her. He casually ran his fingers through his hair, fixing the locks tousled by his fall. 

He caught Vaggie glaring at him from under her lashes, a vicious accusatory look. “We have been through literal hell because of you. The Radio Demon has been fucking out of control.”

“Ya know we’re in literal hell, right?” He teased with a smile. “And where is the big bad Radio Demon now?”

Vaggie started to say something, but he couldn’t hear her over a shrill ringing that started playing in his ears. It sounded faint at first, but grew progressively louder and more intense with each passing second. Ringing. Such constant, incessant ringing. Then, a buzzing sound and the blurry waterfall of white noise. 

“Angel, my darling. What a pleasant surprise,” Alastor’s voice cut in and out, as though he were a radio that needed tuning, stuck in between channels. Angel didn’t need to look at Vaggie to know she had gone very pale and very still. The Radio Demon, stepping jauntily down the stairs as if to his own internal beat, made a chilling picture. Such an easy and relaxed demeanor… it made Angel nervous. 

Was he angry? Apathetic? Sad?

He couldn’t see anything past that wide smile.

His throat felt dry. So dry. He forced himself to maintain his own smile, unwavering and unaffected.

“Yeah, I guess it has been a little while, huh?”

A laugh track sounded from somewhere far away.

Angel gulped. The room felt… hot.

So hot.

Vaggie looked between them, moving closer to Angel. The Radio Demon cocked his head to study her. It bent at an unnatural angle. “My dear, a little privacy, if you please.”

“No, I think I’ll stay,” she said, drawing out each word for emphasis. “Oh! Charlie! Your back. Why don’t you come over here? I know you had SO many questions to ask Angel.” 

These two dames, trying to flank him on either side and discreetly “protect” him from the Radio Demon. How sweet. They really were class acts. He felt so fuckin’ guilty for… fuck, he’d really put them through the ringer and here they were trying to help him. He watched Alastor take a seat in a high-backed velvet armchair across from him, steepling his long fingers into a pyramid, a picture of patience and restraint. 

Angel leaned back against the couch, crossing his long legs and giving Alastor a little peek up his miniskirt. He’d chosen crimson lace panties for the occasion. One of Al’s large red ears twitched. His eyes narrowed just the faintest bit. His grip on his cane tightened, knuckles turning white.

Oh, he’d definitely noticed.

Good.

“Angel, where have you been,” Charlie asked. “We’ve been worried sick.”

“Oh, Vox had me stayin’ in some ritzy penthouse. Real upscale place.” He winked at her playfully. “Ya woulda loved the view, toots. No betta’ view in hell.”

And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Alastor launched at him, grabbing him by the throat and teleporting him into what he could only assume was an empty room…somewhere nearby? Perhaps and empty room in the hotel. He had no fuckin idea.

All he knew was that maybe he had… gone too far with the teasing. Those eyes, mad spinning dials. The teeth, growing into rows of daggers. When they sank into the nape of his neck, he couldn’t help but scream. He could feel them tearing into him, deeper more painful than ever before. 

“Smiles, fuck relax,” he shouted, clawing desperately at the other man’s back. “That really fuckin hurts.” 

A pause. 

Then the body above him shook with mad, barking laughter. 

Uh oh.

“Darling,” Alastor’s voice was a low, buzzing growl. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t break both of your legs right now. I could keep breaking them, again and again, forevermore, and you would be trapped right here in this room. Safe and sound. “

Angel gulped. Alright, so maybe Alastor was more pissed than he had anticipated. He wrapped his thighs around the Radio Demon’s waist, hiking up the miniskirt skirt. “Because ya love me, Daddy, and… ya wouldn’t do that to me. Now would ya?”

“Try again, my dear,” Alastor purred, grabbing one of Angel’s legs in a vice like grip. Oh fuck. That hurt. That really, really fuckin hurt. 

“Because I love you,” Angel said slowly. “Come on, snookums. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love ya. Don’t ruin it bein’ all pissy. I had ta teach ya a lesson.”

“A lesson?!” Alastor roared. Angel yelped as the Radio Demon flipped him onto his stomach. He could feel the lace panties being drawn down around his knees, the thick mushroom head of Alastor’s fat meaty cock pressing against his throbbing puckered hole. Fuck, he needed this. A month without a cock in his ass had been horrible, and Alastor’s cock felt so hot and big. He whimpered as Alastor rubbed the long length of the rod against his entrance. His thighs trembled. He propped up his ass eagerly, unconsciously. “You disappeared for a month! You taunted me. You hid from me! You stayed with HIM.” 

Oh god, just put it in! 

A hand closed around his throat, squeezing. The air stopped coming. The tip began to push inside him. Almost. Almost.

A pause. The grip loosened. The cock against his ass moved away.

Angel looked back at Alastor. Those fierce angry eyes bore into him, cold and dangerous.. “Al… come on,” he turned, uncertainly, and climbed into the Radio Demon’s lap, shivering as the feeling of that massive rod returned against his cheeks. “Please…”

“No, Angel.” 

Angel could feel that panic setting in, watching Alastor’s expression go colder. More remote. “So what, now ya done with me, are ya? Make up ya fuckin’ mind, ya crazy bastard.”

He tried to move out of the lap, but claws on his hip held him there like a vice. “I didn’t say that, Angel,” Alastor said slowly, voice carrying a smiling snarl. “If you want this, then we need to have a little talk first.”

Angel whimpered as the rod rubbed against him. He buried his face into Alastor’s neck. How had he ended up like this, hot and panting in Alastor’s lap, squirming like some sorta bitch in heat for the radio demon’s cock? When had he lost control? He’d been in control!

“Al, come on,” he panted. “Just…p-put it in me.”

“Marry me.”

Wait. What the ever-loving fuck? 

Angel Dust might have punched Alastor in the nose again if there weren’t a very enticing dick rubbing against him. “Shut the fuck up, Al. Don’t make jokes right now.”

“I am quite serious. Marry me.” Deadpan. Oh shit.

“Abso-fuckin-lutely not!” Angel half-screamed. “Al, we haven’t been togetha’ long enough, we’re literally fuckin toxic togetha’, and we just spent a month with me givin ya a major mind fuck. Wait….” He placed a hand over Alastor’s forehead. “Do ya have a fever or somethin? Shit, did I break ya brain?”

“Well, if that is how you feel about the notion,” Alastor started to say, reaching down between them to put away his cock.

“Woah woah woah. Wait a minute, Al. Come on, sugah. Is this a new mind game yer playin or somethin’? Can’t we just… I dunno…fuck and then have a REGULAR discussion. Come on, Daddy. Please don’t… I-I really need your—“

Alastor pushed him out of his lap, tucking away his cock and standing. “No, I don’t think so.” He quipped, smiling and cocking his head to the side. “If I can’t break your legs and keep you locked away, and I can’t bind you to me with the strongest Demon marriage vows I can find, then I see no reason to continue this little dalliance.” 

Angel stared up at him. He knew he’d seen something cold and hard in the Radio Demon’s eyes this last week on the video feed. He’d just known it.

He wanted to smile, wanted to shrug off the Radio Demon’s announcement and pretend everything was completely fine. They could break up. It was fine. He didn’t need anyone, after all. He was the infamous Angel Dust. He would not be manipulated into agreeing to something stupid.

Instead, he started crying.

And that was how he ended up engaged to the fucking Radio Demon. 

-

It was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea. He kept telling himself it was a bad idea even as he agreed to it, begged for it, clinging to Alastor’s shoulders when the Radio Demon climbed back on top of him. “Angel, if you do not want to we can just—“

“No—!” Angel sank his fangs into Alastor’s shoulder. He bit the Radio Demon as hard as he could, which did garner a hiss of discomfort. “No. We’ll get fuckin married. Now just put ya fuckin dick in me.”

“Angel—“

“Alastor, I swear ta Satan if ya don’t shut the fuck up and shove it in me right now, I’m gonna scream, ya manipulative no good sack of shit!” 

Oh god it felt so good, that thick rod pushing into him, spreading him wide open. His back arched, mouth opening just slightly to let out a sigh of pleasure. “Fuck yes—“ 

He grabbed Alastor by his stupid red fuckin hair and pulled him down for a kiss, savoring the heat and spice of it as the Radio Demon rammed into him. Deep, hard thrusts. Rough, just how he liked it. 

It was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea

He flipped them, pinning Alastor beneath him and bouncing on the other man’s rod. The Radio Demon didn’t seem particularly thrilled at the loss of control, but his eyes watched Angel with something warm and thrilling— a fascination, a tenderness, and an adoration. 

It was such a bad idea.

He could take it back after this. It wasn’t like they shook hands or anything. He could hit it and quit it. He could…

Hot cum jetting inside him. The feeling alone brought him to climax. He slid off Alastor’s rod, collapsing beside him, panting heavily.

It was such a bad idea.

He ran a hand along Alastor’s cheek. The Radio Demon looked at him, serious… unsmiling. Another kiss. Deep and lingering.

“Angel, we don’t have to,” he said quietly. “I am… so very sorry. We can still be together. I was being… unreasonable. Stubborn. A complete and utter ass.”

Angel pressed a finger to his lips and smiled.

This was such a fuckin bad idea. 

-

“No. Angel, No.”

These were Charlie’s first words upon seeing a strange glowing band around Angel’s left ring finger. The hotel had been in an uproar after Alastor attacked Angel Dust and vanished them who knows where, a frenzy of searching and worrying that went on for two days. 

They had been prepared for the absolute worst: maiming, cannibalism, severe mutilation, and a million different other possible trauma scenarios.

And then, for Angel to walk sheepishly through the front doors with an engagement ring… 

Somehow this was worse. 

“Listen, Charlie. I know,” he said. “Trust me, I know. Just don’t say anythin’ ta Smiles about it. He ain’t rational and he’s real twitchy and possessive right now. Totally on the attack, ya know? Won’t like anyone commentin’ on his business.”

“Angel!”

“It’ll be fine,” Angel whispered, looking over his shoulder. He had left Alastor in a dead sleep and sprinted to the hotel to get to Charlie first, knowing she would find this… insane. He knew it was fucking insane. The only one who didn’t think it was insane was Alastor. “Think of it as a way ta fast track our redemption or whatever. We won’t be livin in sin cause… ya know… we’ll be…”

“I think… we need to call Cherri.”

“Don’t fuckin tell Cherri about this. She’s gonna go batshit—“

“I’m calling Cherri.” 

“Fuck.” 

Angel ran after Charlie, doing his best to explain that perhaps an intervention at this point in time wasn’t the best bet, but Charlie, her marionette features all pinched with concern, didn’t let him pull her strings. He manipulated overlords. He could talk the princess out of doing something stupid. Right?

“Angel, my dear. Is there a reason you felt the need to climb out a window and run to the hotel without waking me?” Alastor’s voice sounded from the doorway, irritation veiled only by the broadest smile. “And after all the discussions we’ve had about you…leaving. Really, Mon Amour, sometimes I think you anger me on purpose.”

Charlie stared at them. “I’m calling Cherri.” She announced again, decisively. “You both need an intervention.” 

“Ha! No thank you, Miss Magne,” Alastor quipped, herding Angel away from the demon princess with a light tap of his cane. “Your concern is very much appreciated, but—“

“Hello, Cherri. Yeah, Angel is back. We have a situation. It’s… it’s bad.”

“I do not see the reason for all these hysterics,” Alastor sighed, eyes narrowing. “I think you are overstepping, my dear. Angel, collect your belongings. We will be on our way.”

Charlie froze. “You’re… going to leave the hotel?”

Alastor tilted his head to the side and grinned. “Why of course we shall! I could not very well stay in an establishment wherein the staff endeavor to keep me from my fiancé. I would not dream of it, my dear gal!”

Charlie awkwardly hung up the phone.

She truly did think Alastor’s smile looked absolutely feral. 

What had Angel gotten himself into? 

———

Authors Note: It went a way I did not expect.

Comment and Kudos.

I need to lie down now. 🤣😭


	12. Let’s Just Be In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams, getting sick, talks with Cherri, and dancing. A totally normal chapter. Yep. Mmhmm.

Author’s Note: >> I’m a broken record. Ya’ll know that I have no self control by now. This is just how it is.

-

Chapter 12

He was bound to the ground.  
By the shackles on his wrists.  
And they Kissed.Kissed.  
Kissed kissed kissed.

Oh the darkness felt divine,  
When he was rendered blind.  
And they kissed.Kissed.  
Kissed kissed kissed.

And the branding barely score,  
So he begged for more.  
And they kissed. Kissed.  
Kissed kissed kissed.

He felt the shackles, heavy around his wrists. He felt his bare back pressed against damp grass, the musky scent of mud and tepid water heavy around him. He felt the soft fabric of a blindfold over his eyes, blocking out the moonlight and the flickering orange light of a dancing fire that winked in his peripheral. He felt the warmth of those flames, close but just far enough. He felt the iron on his chest, hot and searing. A heart and initials, as though he were a tree being carved— or in this case burned. 

And so he screamed and screamed and screamed…

Begging for more.

There was something behind the door. Such a fucking disappointment of a son. Something behind the door. I think you look real swell, Anthony. A real doll. Something behind the door. Baby gotta change your name. Change your name. Did you change your name? Sleep now, Anthony. Something behind the door. The Crescent Limited.

Stir the sauce.

Sick. Angel sat up from his restless sleep in a cold sweat and bolted to the bathroom, retching and heaving over the toilet, his body convulsing with a series of tremors he couldn’t control or understand. He wanted to get every bit of bile out of his slender frame, wanted to gag and vomit until the overwhelming nausea finally stopped.

But his stomach kept seizing and his eyes and throat burned with the effort.

“Angel?” Alastor’s tired voice grumbled from the doorway. Angel didn’t look up. He couldn’t look up. Fuck, he felt so sick. He bit back a whine as a clawed hand pushed back his hair while another stroked slow circles into his back. 

“I’m fine. Don’t want ya ta see—“ he groaned and wretched into the porcelain bowl. This was fucking disgusting. He wanted to disappear into the cold tile floor, but Alastor’s hand felt so good, and his words, a soft hum of French endearments and consolations, sounded so soothing. 

After some time, Alastor silently fetched him a bottle of water and turned on the shower. With a little more help from the Radio Demon than Angel cared to admit, he mustered the strength to brush his teeth, drink from the bottle, undress, and slide into the shower, sitting on the floor of the tub, face turned up to catch the steaming spray of hot water. 

Alastor slipped in behind him, arching a brow upon finding him sitting. He kneeled beside him. “Why, whatever did you eat to get you in such a state, my dear? Unfortunately I cannot get you pregnant, so food poisoning or a stomach flu seem the likeliest of options.”

Unfortunately? This dickwad would totally knock him up if it were possible! Fuckin bastard. He mentally filed that comment away to bring up at some point in a later, unrelated argument… if he found himself on the losing side of things and needed an edge. 

“Bad meat,” he said, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. Had he eaten bad meat?

Alastor sat beside him and pulled him into his lap. They sat, coiled around each other until the water ran cold. 

-

After their first night back together in the hotel, during which Angel had fallen suddenly and violently ill, he noticed Alastor hovering around him, quick to glance and visually scan anything he went to eat or drink. Angel knew the Radio Demon was trying his best at…subtlety… but he was fairly certain that anyone with fuckin eyes could see he was acting like a worried, paranoid nut job. Not that he minded it really. He’d missed having those piercing red eyes watching his every movement. 

Still, there really wasn’t anything to worry about and he didn’t need Al being all overbearing when Cherri came over to “talk” with him. It was already going to be a stretch convincing her that the Radio Demon wasn’t a total possessive fucking prick when… well… he was. He had managed, after a 20 minute phone argument, to push off her coming over until today, just to give them a LITTLE time to settle back in, but Cherri would not be held off for long and she and Alastor… well, he was worried they would despise each other, honestly.

“Just stay here. Right fuckin’ here in your chair.” Angel said irritably, shoving a newspaper into Alastor’s hands alongside a cup of strong coffee. A little sway of his hips and a wink had lured Alastor into the living room, mostly out of curiosity, when suddenly Angel shoved the Radio Demon into his chair and started barking orders rapid fire. “I’m gonna be havin’ a private chat wit Cherri and ya don’t need ta be involved, so ya mind ya own business and don’t move from this fuckin spot.”

Alastor stared at him, ever smiling, but his eyes didn’t match the smile. “This is completely patronizing, my dear. I think I might be offended!”

“I don’t care,” Angel said, wagging his left hand in front of Alastor’s face. “Ya want this? Huh? Ya wanna get married? Ya wanna make this shit happen? Well, I gotta get my girl on board, cause I ain’t walkin’ down no fuckin aisle without my entourage. Capiche?” 

Alastor leaned back, sipping the drink. “Yes dear,” he said smoothly, the smile finally crinkling the corners of those hard red eyes a bit. 

“Good.” Angel sighed and pecked Alastor’s lips, getting a light nip for his efforts. Prick. “She’s got a lot of moxy, Cherri does. If she attacks ya, ya don’t fuckin hurt her, ya hear? Protect ya self but don’t hurt a hair on her head. She might throw bombs at ya. I’m gonna try to keep her away from ya until after we’ve talked but—“

“Oh I’m sure it will be swell, my dear,” Alastor said, flipping through the newspaper and rubbing his cane over Angel’s hip. “No need to fret. Sure, the news may be a shock at first. I dare say it has been a rather speedy road to engagement for… nowadays, but I see no reason for the news to cause such an uproar.” 

Angel stared at him. This man… fuck this was such a bad idea, but… “Al, baby, I love ya, but ya got so many screws loose. So many screws.” He stroked the two red ear tufts and watched them twitch back irritably. Dick.

A crash sounded towards the front of the hotel, the loud splintering of a heavy ornate door slamming open. He bit his lip, adjusted his posture, and plastered a wide smile onto his face. He could feel Alastor watching him, eyes glittering with amusement. “What a lovely smile,” the Radio Demon teased. Was that code for ‘Fake Ass Bitch?’

“Ya neva’ fully dressed without a smile,” Angel quipped back, smacking away the clawed hand that reached for him. “Behave. And—“

“Yes yes. Stay in my chair.” Alastor lifted the newspaper with a sarcastic edge to his smile and began to read. 

Good. Problem neutralized. Kinda.

He hurried to catch Cherri on her rampage through the hotel, looping an arm, or two, around her shoulders and steering her up the stairs and away from the living room, prattling all the while. He had learned long ago, you could confuse people with your talking— disorient them. Just keep talking, smiling, and gesturing. Keep them watching you. Any audience could be a captive audience, big or small, and ya didn’t need a stage or a thong to do it. 

“Fuck I missed ya, Babes. Did ya ever find out what the deal is with that snakey fella? I hear he fucks his hat. I got some bets ridin’ on that shit, ya know. Husk is bein’ a little bitch and won’t have any part of it but Nifty thinks—“

“Angie, don’t try to fuckin’ sheepdog me!” Cherri said. “Bitch, I know what you’re doing. You can’t HERD me.” 

Angel shut the bedroom door behind them.

“Already did, babes,” he said, locking the door and shoving the key down into his tit fluff.

“First of all, it’s fucking weird you can lock your room from the inside.” Cherri said, placing a hand on one of her curvy, rounded hips and flipping her wild pink hair. She was such a fucking Queen. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s actually kinda horrific. Second, touché bitch. Third, you seriously think I won’t reach in there? Seriously?”

“Listen, Babes, I just wanted ta talk with ya before ya start confrontin’ anyone, ya know?” He felt like he lost the words after that, like somehow everything he had planned to say was drying up on his tongue, evaporating; his mind a desert.

He paused for a moment too long, searching for the words— for sense. 

She touched his arm, laced her fingers around it, and pulled him onto the bed, sitting down beside him with her knees drawn to her chest. Her one eye looked into his own, deeply and knowingly. Her shoulder knocked against his shoulder and she gave him that smile. That smile that said: “I’ve loved you at your best and at your worst. You can tell me anything. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know it’s a bad idea,” he said finally, closing his eyes and falling back on the bed. She laid down beside him and held his hand. 

“But you’re gonna do it, huh.” She said softly. The words weren’t a question. They were a fact. “No matter what I or anyone else says.” 

“Yeah,” he said, watching the ceiling fan go around and around. 

“It might not end well,” she said. 

“I know.” 

“Partners in crime, Angie. I’ve got your back. I’ll always be on your side. So come to me next time,” she said, reaching down his shirt and grabbing the key. “I can’t believe ya ran away to those punk ass Bitch Vs instead of me, you asshole! You know how pissed I was?!” 

They laughed, chatted, and planned, Cherri secretly hoping she could eventually guide Angel away from this choice he had made and Angel knowing she couldn’t. 

A shadow slithered out from under the bedroom door, traveling soundlessly down the stairs and into the living room where Alastor sat reading. 

Angel Dust was wrong about one thing. Alastor decided he very much liked Cherri Bomb as a friend for his Angel… even if she rightfully despised Alastor, himself.

He would not lose Angel.

Not again.

After some time, Angel saw Cherri to the door, gave her a tight hug, and promised they would go clubbing that weekend. He needed to give his bitch some fuckin gal time, and since his useless social media phobic “fiance” refused to take a picture with him, he plotted to take photos flashing his ring with every hot fella he could find until Alastor finally snapped. 

Was he planning on purposefully antagonizing the Radio Demon? 

Absolutely.

Would he get a picture of the two of them out of it?

Maybe… at the very least he’d get some angry deer dick. 

It seemed worth it. 

Now for the matter at hand…

“Hey dickwad! Don’t think I didn’t see that fuckin stunt ya pulled!” He shouted, snatching away the newspaper. Alastor leaned back and watched him, smiling as always , legs crossed in that superior, businesslike way of his with his hands in that stupid fuckin power pyramid shape. “ I saw ya little fuckin’ shadow minion worm itself under the fuckin door. Ya really think I wouldn’t notice ya spyin’ on me? This is why I can’t ever trust ya. I bet if I were a fuckin chick ya would be the type of fucker ta poke holes in the condom, ya sick fuck!”

“Angel, my dear,” Alastor said slowly, voice buzzing. “Stop.”

“Tell me I’m wrong?” Angel said, hands on his hips. “I swear—“

“We would never wear a condom, my dear. Your point is moot.” Alastor said, looking rather bored as he picked up the paper again. “I would have impregnated you ages ago. I don’t think it would have taken much convincing either. You are not particularly careful with your body.”

Oh my god. This prick. Where did he get off?

“You are a fuckin pig. Wedding off— oomph” 

He wasn’t sure how he ended up in the Radio Demon’s lap. It felt as if his entire body was jolted forward all at once. Silence. Strong slim arms coiled around his waist. He could feel Alastor’s cheek resting against the fluff his chest. He stopped, exhaled shakily, and ran his fingers through Alastor’s crimson hair. “I’m sorry, mon amour. We are so… angry at each other.” Alastor sighed, closing his eyes. “Distrusting… the both of us, really. Myself especially though. I know this is a bad idea, my dear. I know that. But—“ A pause. “I truly believe that we found each other for a reason, and I will do anything… to keep you by my side. When you left…”

His eyes seemed to shift. Angel tightened the embrace before the pupils became those creepy dials. “Probably didn’t help with your anxiety, huh handsome?”

“Anxiety. Do I have anxiety?” Alastor blinked several times. 

“About love, relationships, and shit like this?” Angel said with a laugh. “In spades, babe. In fuckin’ spades. Ya ever been in love before, Smiles?”

“Once.”

“Well fuck, Al.” Angel leaned back, trying to hide the flush of jealousy spreading over his cheeks and burning in the pit of his stomach. He wanted.. to rip off Alastor’s horns and poke him in the fuckin eye with ‘em. Fuck, was this how Alastor felt all the fucking time about all of Angel’s dalliances? “What was he… or um… she… or they—“

Alastor chuckled softly, a laugh that held no buzz of static, no bark of canned laughter. It was sweet and smooth and warm. “Angel, when you were… teasing me… you said you knew I loved you more than you love me…”

“Al, I was just bein’ vindictive—“

“No. No. It’s alright, my dear. I’m not upset. Well, I am. Always. But that doesn’t matter. I don’t think you understand… how much I...” he seemed to be searching for the words. His eyes softened. He ran a hand along Angel’s cheek. The cane began to play a sweet, tender melody. Slow. It felt like spinning backwards into the past, like dancing in candlelight on a winter’s night. Alastor’s voice made him feel alive again.

“When you’re not home,  
And I’m alone,  
I see your face shine everywhere.”

The Radio Demon took him by the waist and lifted them out of the chair, pulling him into a slow dance across the maroon carpet as he sang gently in Angel’s ear. It felt right, gliding around the room like this, pressed close, being held and dipped. So close. So tight.

“No copycat of any stair,  
Could dare compare,  
Though they may share,  
Your eyes and lips,  
Your skin so fair,  
Your pretty hair.

You’re one of a kind.  
Oh, say you’ll be mine,  
A man could be blind,  
And fall in love with your laugh…

And every day,  
That you’re not there,  
My heart is aching,  
My hands are quaking,  
Here dear, feel me shaking  
I’m breaking apart…  
For you....

And I know your heart is just the same.  
So why play this waiting game?  
Why spread the blame?  
Why feel the shame?  
Let’s just be in love.”

He knew it wouldn’t be that easy. They both did.

But he wanted to try…

He just wanted to try.

-

Author’s Note: Kudos and Review, my darlings. 

I give thee plentiful bounty in my current state of gross sickness. Packaged Ramen counts as chicken soup, right?

“Let’s Just Be In Love” shitty recording if you want an idea the melody- https://youtu.be/LY3iVyLBmH0


	13. Yes, Dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you finally really get to see a bit into Alastor’s head and the two idiots have some conversations.

Author’s Note: A light sorbet to cleanse the pallet between all of the rich delicacies. Enjoy, my Darlings.

-

Chapter 13

They were dancing when Charlie entered the room, moving so easily in synchronicity that she wondered if they had done this before. It was like watching swans floating together on a pond…well, hell swans… which were basically just like mortal swans: pretty assholes. She caught the tail end of Alastor’s song, saw their foreheads press together, both exhaling in tandem as though in relief. Alastor’s smile dropped. The sight nearly made her jump out of her skin: the radio demon without his signature grin, looking at Angel with such a grave and serious expression, running a hand along his cheek.

Then he noticed her.

Before she could even blink the smile was back in place. She almost wondered if she had imagined the whole thing, but something told her not to second guess herself. The Radio Demon released his hold on Angel, stepping aside and gesturing vaguely towards her, as if to ask the spider to “deal” with her. They shared a look between them, seeming to have some sort of mental conversation, before Angel looked at her, smiling sheepishly. 

“Oh… oh, hey Charlie,” Angel said softly, eyes glassy and dazed. His cheeks and chest were flushed the lightest hue of pink. “Ya need somethin’, toots? Ya have a real twitchy look about ya.” 

She watched him straighten, watched his smile shift into something a bit more bright and disarming. Strangely… charming. She looked between the Radio Demon and the spider, trying to piece together what exactly was going on between these two, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what was so odd about the couple other than the fact that their entire relationship was a toxic dumpster fire.

“Ah, I was actually hoping, since over the last month you have… sorta been a media sensation for things other than porn… that maybe you could get with Vox and talk about advertising for the hotel.” She said slowly. “I mean, you were constantly in commercials… on every television in Hell. We got just tons of fan mail from weirdos who thought you might eventually come back and… ummm you kinda…”

“I owe ya one, babes. Ya can say it,” he laughed, turning his head and looking briefly at Alastor who lightly nudged him with his cane but said nothing. The Radio Demon appeared fixed on a newspaper, apparently uninterested in the conversation. “Listen, we don’t need ta involve Vox in nothin directly. Might be a bit too much too soon after I spent the whole month moochin’ off him. I’m sure I can get on Killjoy’s show. Might do a bit a bit better with the sinner crowd than ya did, bein as “good” as ya are. Don’t worry, Charlie, I’ll make it up ta ya.”

He smiled and she felt a little lighter, her mood a little brighter. Well, at least Angel had agreed to help, and that was all she could have hoped for. Maybe they would finally get some… quality advertisement… for the hotel.

Angel watched her leave and settled in Alastor’s lap. The Radio Demon felt rigid as marble, all stiff and pissy. Oh for fuck’s safe. Why couldn’t Smiles just fucking talk to him?

“Don’t be a dick, Smiles,” he said lightly. “Ya know she didn’t mean nothin by it. I ain’t gonna see Vox or Val anytime soon so ya can rest easy, alright? I swear if ya continue like this I might force ya to get a Feelings Journal or some shit.” 

“I had a feeling she was going to say something infuriating when she entered the room. Thank you for…” Alastor paused, seeming to search for the words. 

“Helpin’ ya avoid showin’ ya true colors so ya can still fuck with her head later?” Angel laughed. “Listen Al, I ain’t gonna help ya destroy the hotel. Got it? And if ya suggest somethin fuckin stupid I’m gonna call it out. If Charlie still wants ta believe ya after I say somethin’s a bad idea then that’s her problem. No tryin ta make me ya obedient little bitch anymore, alright?”

“Yes, dear.” 

“And I get veto power if somethin’ is… ya know… too much?”

“Yes, dear.” Alastor kissed the nape of his neck.

“And I want ya to be… honest with me. I don’t want ya ta keep nothin from me. Smiles… we gotta… talk things out.” Angel said slowly.

Alastor’s ears flattened. He said nothing.

And then they started bickering again.

—

He was standing next to his mother as she made the sauce, wobbling on tip toes to watch her every graceful movement, memorizing each ingredient. The world around them was a faded, an ever-shifting patchwork of memories, changing and wobbly with each glance. He heard the crash of the front door followed by cursing in a mixture of Italian and English. Papa would be mean today. Mama said he worked hard, but Anthony thought he might just be a mean man. He would never say it out loud though. Molly once called Daddy mean and he cut off all her hair with a knife. Fistfuls of blonde curls tossed into the wastebasket. 

But he sometimes did worse things with his fists, and mama had the shiner to prove it.

He watched his mother turn her head to look towards the doorway, saw the purple bags under her eyes and the glossy bruises thinly veiled with makeup. She pulled a bottle from her bosom, a tiny vial of white pills. “I make your papa’s sauce separate, baby. Sometimes Daddies… they need an extra kick of heat and spice…” she said slowly, pouring a portion of the contents into the smaller saucepan. “Sometimes they go to bed early.”

She placed a finger over her lips, smiling.

The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Sad eyes. Broken eyes.

Stir the sauce.

Stir the sauce.

He could feel Alastor’s arms around him. He was no longer that child at his mama’s side. The loss of her made his heart throb, but the world was still shifting around them, unreal, a facsimile of their bedroom but all wrong. Thrumming music. Shifting shadows that filled him with dread. 

Dread. 

The teeth on his neck, sinking into his flesh, were his respite from the terror. Mark me. Mark me. Mark me yours. He wanted to scream those words. The arms coiled around him were his safety net, but it felt as though they were unraveling, the teeth unhinging. No no no! 

He was standing in front of a doorway, hand on the knob, turning it.

He didn’t want to turn it. 

He wanted to pretend he didn’t know what was behind the door. He couldn’t stop himself from turning it.

The teeth again. 

Oh thank fucking Satan.

He jolted awake to blood, wet and warm, running down his neck and shoulder, soaking into his sheets. It pooled around him, but a deft tongue soon brushed over the bite. Alastor lapped at the wound as if it were the most natural thing in the world and Angel could not help but shiver at the thrilling, painful tickle.

“Another nightmare, mon Amour?” He said. “You were tousling quite violently. Did my wake up call help?”

“Actually, yeah. It did.” Angel said softly, studying the shifting patterns of darkness on the wall. “Al, ya ever think about life before… death?” 

“Not often, my dear,” Alastor said, looping an arm back around him. “The past does not bear thinking about.”

“Do ya remember all of it…?”

“For the most part, yes. Va dormir, mon amour.” Alastor said, nipping his shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m missin’ pieces.”

“Mmm? Do you truly need them, my dear” Alastor said with a little bark of his usual canned laughter. “We have a whole afterlife ahead of us, you and I, and I, for one, am looking forward to it! You are… never boring, mon cher.” 

“Yeah, well, we could use a little more ‘boring’ in this relationship,” Angel rolled onto his other side, expecting to see that broad unflinching smile when he turned to face Alastor. He was met instead by that delightfully serious expression— the one meant just for him— and a kiss that tasted like heat and spice. A kiss with a little bit of a kick to it. 

They laid together a long while, neither speaking, both enjoying this precious moment of just being in each other’s company. Even in the silence, even in the quiet monotony of laying wordlessly side by side, it wasn’t boring. Maybe they could lie there together forever, two broken souls finding something real and precious in the darkest of places. Maybe it didn’t need to be perfect. Maybe they didn’t need to be whole. Maybe they could put each other back together again, piece by piece, filling in each other’s chips and cracks. After all, they had all the time they could ask for. They didn’t need to rush. They had… an eternity.

“Al, ya don’t believe in this whole… redemption schtick, do ya?” Angel said. His eyelids felt so very heavy. 

“Not in the slightest.” Alastor returned easily, chuckling. “Why?”

“I miss my ma… and my sistah, Molly,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “Wouldn’t leave ya again for the world, Smiles, but… I really do miss ’em. Would be nice ta see ‘em again. Wish there was somethin in between heaven and hell, ya know?”

“Angel…” Alastor whispered, pressing their foreheads together.. “I understand… that feeling. I… I do… I miss my mother as well, but redemption is… a fantasy. There’s no redemption for sinners, my dear. We pay the price for what we did. Do not be swayed by Charlie’s… optimism. Usually, seeing others try and fail pleases me to no end but with you… I don’t want to see you hurt by false hope, my dear. My claws and teeth, maybe, but not by false hope. Shattered hopes bring the greatest suffering, I think.”

“Ya think your beyond redemption then, hun?” Angel said with a weak smile. “I don’t think ya are. I think yous and I, we can be better than we are now. That’s what I think. So I’m gonna try, and in 50 years if no good comes of it, ya can tell me ‘I told ya so’ and maybe I’ll try your thing fa a while, alright?”

Alastor smiled, and it reached his eyes. 

“Yes, dear.” 

Angel loved the way that sounded. Those two words on Alastor’s tongue, every time he heard them he got chills— the good kind. Those words felt like effort, an olive branch. Maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to see, and maybe he was overthinking it, but they FELT like a compromise. Maybe it was false hope, but maybe they would be okay. 

Maybe they could be okay. 

When Angel fell asleep, Alastor pulled the spider demon closer, wrapping him in the tightest embrace he could manage without waking his beloved idiot. He traced the pink outline of a heart in the plush fur on Angel’s chest, smiling faintly to himself.

“You, my dear fellow, are going to drive me mad.” He whispered, nuzzling into Angel’s neck and casting the briefest glance of concern at the pool of blood in the sheets. A flick of the wrist and it was gone, but he made a mental note to also have them washed. His Angel would throw such a ridiculous little fit otherwise. 

He watched Angel’s chest, rising and falling, studied his face for any sign of distress. These nightmares… how could he make them cease? Perhaps he should ask Rosie what she thought. Who knows, she might have a few choice opinions worth hearing on the subject. Whatever the case may be, they were proving quite inconvenient, and while he thoroughly enjoyed sinking his teeth into Angel at any and every opportunity, the distressed screams coming from those pretty lips were hardly as pleasing when Alastor was not the one causing them. 

And he did love causing them. Oh he loved that indeed. He was not a man prone to lusts. Sex, in general, had never quite interested him, but… 

He enjoyed seeing those off-color eyes glaze over for him, lips parting to scream his name. That he could give Angel both pain and pleasure all at once felt intoxicating, invigorating, and quite the most captivating experience. Perhaps that was lust, in a way; His own form of lust felt only because deep love and a hunger for domination existed there in the first place. 

And he did love Angel.

He wanted to cage and shackle him. He want to cover his eyes, blind him, and block out the rest of the world from him. He wanted to brand him his own, to leave a mark in his flesh all would see and understand meant “property of the radio demon.” 

And yet…

He wanted to see him laughing, confident, and smiling. He wanted to see him glowing. He wanted them to move, in tandem, through this hell together, to build each other brick by brick. He wanted to see Angel become stronger, braver, bolder, and fiercer— to reach the potential he deserved to reach. 

Alastor knew he deserved none of Angel at all. 

But he would have Angel, even if he didn’t deserve him. He would have all of him.

And not anyone or anything was going to stop him from taking what he wanted. 

He noticed Angel begin to whimper and stir again in his sleep and nibbled along the spider’s neck, digging sharp nails into the slender white hips. No more dreams. No more nightmares. No more memories. If he had to rip Angel back into the present every night for the next thousand years, he would. If he had to lie, manipulate, and BITE, he would. Angel, ever the masochist, sighed his relief and Alastor counted that a victory. 

The sooner they were married, the better. 

He needed to bind Angel to him once and for all. 

-

Here’s the thing about goin clubbin’ in hell: it’s just like the mortal world except… well… everyone who fucking sucks is there. That line of dudes who stand outside the bathroom doors stroking the arm of any pretty thing that passes by, because God forbid a bitch be allowed to take a piss without being molested, they’re in hell. That drunk fuck who won’t take no for an answer on the dance floor and makes anyone and everyone uncomfortable with unwanted humping? In hell. The person who shaves SOMETHING and leaves curly hairs all over the public bathroom? In hell. Urinal pooper? In hell. Tampon on toilet seat leaver? In hell. Flasher of horrible genitals? In hell. Drunk bitch saying something loudly racist? In hell. Couple that always fight in public…well, Al wasn’t with him for this outing, but Angel supposed that would be their label. Anyway, in hell. Voxtagram bitch doing a live video with several drunken friends all clustering together and blocking some pathway or other? In hell. Two randos punching? In hell. Roofie rapist? In hell, obviously. Couple fucking in the handicapped bathroom stall? In hell. Shit DJ? Hell. Hidden butt toucher? Hell. 

So yeah, clubbing in hell was only a good time if you were really fucking high… which is why Angel did a shit ton of drugs with Cherri on their “Girl’s Night.”

Cherri was his bitch, his loyalest best girl pal in all of fuckin hell, but she wasn’t exactly great at moderation with this shit either and together they went all fuckin’ out, glasses clanking and pills popping. They hopped between a bunch of different places before settling on Underworld, a real thrillin’ place that gave off this dark ominous vibe full of flashing lights in shades of deep blue and purple. Bioluminescent mushrooms climbed walls of weathered stone, Angel’s drink was a sugary pomegranate concoction that seemed to shimmer under the flashing lights, and the dance floor resembled a river of swirling souls, shrieking and grabbing for dancers with ghoulish foggy fingers. Greek pillars decorated the room, sturdy and marble.

Also, there were pills shaped like tiny penises and Angel was all about that life. 

“You know,” Cherri said to him as he pulled off and tossed his shirt at some random fella. “You can’t do this shit if you get married.” Her voice was lightly teasing, her eye starry and distracted, pupil dilated. She watched Angel take a selfie, ring in frame, with several hot guys. 

“Do what?” Angel asked, batting away an oversized lion’s paw from his fluffy tits. “Hands off, fella. I’m spoken fa. Just tryin ta make my man jealous with pics.” It really was hard to focus on not getting groped when your mind was… well… hazy. Sparkly. The drink was everything though. 

“Flirt. Get naked. Get high all the time. All the good stuff, man.” Cherri said, tilting her head. “Dance. Bet that prude doesn’t let ya dance without him around.”

“Bitch, I can dance whenever and wherever the fuck I want!”

—

Author’s Note: Kudos and Review.

I feast upon your words with chicken soup. My brain is dead.


	14. Shackled, Blindfolded, Branded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And everything comes to a head.

Author’s Note: Final Chapter, my darlings! What a crazed and tumultuous journey it has been! Thank you so so so so so so so much for all of your lovely comments and support. I feel reinvigorated having written this story! 

-

Chapter 14

He could dance wherever and whenever he wanted.

He climbed onto an upraised marble platform, one where a Greek statue once stood but was now left unattended and…

He froze.

Looking out over the gyrating crowd, hearing the low thrum of music thumping in his head, Angel wondered why he suddenly did not want to rip off the rest of his clothes and dance for a hungry crowd …of people he didn’t really like…. While on drugs he didn’t really want… to a song he thought was pretty fucking basic. Even as his head swam and lights popped in his vision, like fireworks exploding in his brain, he felt suddenly very silly.

He remembered Alastor’s angry eyes on him in the club that one day, the vicious slap of tentacles against his bare ass. So fucking good, being watched by those eyes. He remembered slow dancing with his radio demon, twirling around the room, feeling that warm closeness, like a reunion of two souls moving in tandem to a song they’d heard once upon another lifetime. Al’s tender eyes on him, transfixed in adoration. A burning stare.

No. No he wouldn’t do this.

Maybe that made him “whipped”. Maybe that made him a pathetic submissive little bitch, obeying his overbearing dickwad of a boyfriend, but he didn’t care. He didn’t WANT to do this.

He climbed off the pillar, ignoring the pissy little boos from the horny crowd. Ah well, fuck em. Cherri arched her brow at him. “Guess ya might be right, toots,” he said and shrugged his shoulders. “We gotta think up a term fa this shit. Dick whipped? Is that already a thing? Ya know, like pussy-whipped but fa dick? Anyway, I’m dick whipped.”

She whistled low. “The dick is that good? Never seen ya turn away the chance to put on a show,” she said, laughing and snatching a tit-shaped pill from a tray, popping it in her mouth. “Talk about anticlimactic.”

“Yeah yeah. Stage is open, toots. Feel free ta get up there yaself.” He teased, stretching his limbs and looking around. Pretty lights. Flashing everywhere. “I’m gonna go ova’ there.” He stumbled off to pet a mushroom. Over the course of the night, he became convinced that all of the shiny mushrooms were secretly penises, got in an argument with the bartender about what an acceptable number of glory holes might be in any given establishment, found his shirt, punched a fella for trying to grope Cherri, got lost, had a deep philosophical conversation with a toad, found himself wandering aimlessly through the cannibal cove out of sheer curiosity, got lost again, and realized that he was wearing someone else’s fucking shirt. 

What the fuck? Whose fuckin’ shirt was this and where was Cherri? 

Ah well, they would find each other eventually. He was used to separating when one night stands with some sexy fuck became a possibility. Perhaps she’d found someone fuckable and bounced.

The streets were old, different from those he was accustomed to in hell, lit by ornate black iron street lamps burning with the flickering of a gaslight. Saloons, billiards halls, cabarets, dance clubs, barbershops, and theaters advertising “picture shows” lined the cobblestone streets. The buildings were short compared to hell’s towering skyscrapers, no more than 2-3 floors tall and wrapped by ironwork galleries and balconies. They had a touch of French flare somehow, perhaps in the arches and pops of color. A kiss of class and culture, a mix of old and very old with an air of familiarity that made his hair stand on end. He read a nearby street sign. Better Bourbon Street.

Jazz music playing. He could hear it, a sweet seductive sound emitting from every corner of this place that had stopped in time. A time he had once been part of.

Demons did get nostalgic, after all.

He approached one of the buildings, it seemed to call to him, shadows tugging him in the direction of green shuttered doors opened wide. A soft glow of light from within. Abyssinia.

The fella at the door, a imp dressed in sky blue coattails looked him up and down, snorted disapprovingly, and let him in regardless, looking all-suffering all the while. Little prick. 

…

Oh fuck, but he seriously WAS underdressed.

The eyes that turned to greet him seemed skeptical, almost feral in their amusement. Wide sharp smiles. Dancing dresses and suits so fine but with an edge of danger. He felt transported back further in time, to a time when he was dressed up like a lady doll, nervously looking around, hoping to pick up a fella in a ritzy poppin’ place— lost and penniless in a new city. He just needed a night, a roof over his head.

“Angel, my dear!” Angel swiveled his head to stare, transfixed, at the approaching Radio Demon. Alastor jauntily strutted towards him with that wide, toothy smile, looping an arm around Angel’s waist and leading him swiftly to a table near the edge of the room. Angel could feel Alastor’s coat draping around his shoulders. Oof. Yep, he was definitely underdressed. “I was under the impression that you and that amusing friend of yours were going out this evening, mon Amour. What a charming surprise! However did you find me? I do not believe you ever asked what I was doing this evening.”

Alastor really could be so passive aggressive, but Angel was happy to see him. 

“Al, I don’t even know how I got here,” Angel said slowly, trying to hide the slurr in his words. His eyes strayed to the stage where a band played that sultry jazz. He pulled the coat tighter around himself, enjoying the scent and the warmth.

Alastor grabbed his chin with a clawed hand. Angel blinked as the Radio Demon studied him, piercing eyes darting as if he were reading Angel’s face. 

“You are utterly and completely inebriated,” He said decisively with a little ‘tsk.’ “Well, thank goodness your instincts served you well this time. Do you make a habit of wandering alone, half naked, though unknown streets of hell?!”

“Yeah, babes. That’s kinda half of bein’ a cheap hooka’,” Angel teased, offering a sheepish smile. Alastor, despite his manic grin, did not seem amused. Angel rolled his eyes and began scrolling through his phone, sinking back into the seat with a bit of a pout. Well fuck, if he wasn’t gonna have a sense of humor about it Angel would just ignore him for Voxtagram.

Al’s hand rested on his thigh under the tabled, stroking gently, a sweet little apology without words. 

It didn’t last long. Claws. Piercing, pinching claws. Fucking ow. 

“Angel, darling. Why are there dozens of pictures of you posing topless with men in your infernal cellular device?” Alastor said with a little edge to his voice, sliding a tall glass of water in front of the spider demon. Oh yeah, Angel considered that it probably wasn’t a good idea to antagonize his fiancé while he was drunk and high and in a place he did not know, but still…

“It ain’t nothin’, baby,” Angel said, shrugging, rubbing his eyes with his fists, and yawning. 

Alastor’s eyes narrowed. 

“That’s not your shirt, ‘baby’,” He hissed back, using a particular tone of biting sarcasm on the last word. He leaned in close, whispering a cool, chilling song in Angel’s ear as he pulled him, in a flash and flurry of movement, onto the dance floor. “Did ya sleep with anyone else, ‘baby’?”

Angel grinned. Well fuck him. Two could play at this game. He moved away coyly, a teasing smile on his lips and sung back:

“Maybe Maybe.”

Alastor swung him, pulled him close, hissing the song against his neck:

“Did ya sleep with anyone else, baby?”

“Maybe Maybe.”

“Oh your driving me crazy, baby.  
Mon Angie.  
Anthony…”

And then, the world snapped into place. His drugged mind, in a moment of either lucidity or derangement started rapidly putting together the pieces of the puzzle. He grabbed Alastor’s face and stared at him, saw beyond the red hair and grayish skin to a man with neat brown hair and spectacles. Crescent Limited. Out of New York City south south south to... the last stop. 

No.

No no no.

Dread.

“My name. How’d ya know it?” He sang so quietly the words almost felt like a broken whisper. Alastor pulled him close in the dance but he felt as though he were floating away from the other man. Gravity disappearing just for him. The claws digging into his flesh were his only anchor. The teeth tearing into his neck a brief respite from thought.

“Anthony?” 

“Neva’ told it.”

“Darling I can explain. Darling what’s in a name? Anthony...”

“Neva’ told it”

“Mon amour.”

“How’d ya know it?!”

“Your father said...”

“No, in the bed.... in the bed... in the bed long ago you said my name: “Sleep now, Anthony.”” 

Angel screamed the words. Why hadn’t he noticed before? Why had the hand over his eyes in that moment blinded him from seeing what was right in front of him? Alastor, using his name— a name he had not shared.

“Baby, maybe, you’re misremembering.  
Baby, maybe, you’re misremembering.”

“Sleep now, Anthony!  
Ya hand was like a blindfold.  
…I couldn’t see.”

Panic. 

He could see it in Alastor’s eyes, hear it on his lips. As he wrenched himself out of those arms and began to move away from the Radio Demon, he could see those eyes doing wild calculations, trying to come up with ways to pull him back in, to keep him, to calm him.

Alastor finally deflated, sighed and…pleaded… softly, extending a hand to him:

“Mon amour. Mon Angie. Mon Cher.  
Come to me.”

“Benny got me papers ta get on the train.  
Louie told me “baby, gotta change your name!”  
Molly had me dressed up like a lady doll.  
And Al, at nineteen I left them all...  
...behind...  
... I told a man my name...”

“Anthony...”

“You knew me...”

“Anthony...”

“And ya didn’t say…”

“Forgive me, Anthony.”

“I took the Crescent Limited...”

“You took the Crescent Limited down to New Orleans...”

New Orleans Louisiana. Last stop on the southbound train. Pennies in his pocket. 

Angel’s shoulders sagged. He sang softly:

“The prettiest place I’d eva’ seen...  
So much happening...”

“Forgive me, Anthony. “

I met a brown haired man,  
early thirties with a bit of a tan.  
Spoke French oh so sweet,  
but the bodies in the bedroom were too many ta beat.  
He liked ta EAT...”

“Forgive me, Anthony!”

“Human meat...”

Stir the sauce. Bad meat. Bad meat. There are bodies in a bedroom. Bodies in a bedroom. Stir the sauce. Pretend you don’t know. Pretend you don’t see. Bad meat. Bad meat.

“Anthony, It was so long ago.”

“Fa a year, I didn’t know...”

“And then you ran away.”

“Ya tried ta make me stay,  
Ya bound me down.”

Shackled. Blindfolded. Branded.

“Mon Amour, not another sound.”

Alastor caught him as he bolted for the door, grabbing him by wrist. Hands like shackles. 

Shackled. Blindfolded. Branded. 

Oh, life swings around and around.

…and around.

-

Angel was right, they really were the screaming couple at the club, even in this upscale swanky fucking place. He was shouting at Alastor, fluffy tits practically out, cursing in Italian and gesturing wildly while onlookers, shocked and utterly amused or annoyed, watched from the sidelines.

He felt so… so cold. His head throbbed. The pretty flashing colors were shifting into shadows, chunks of human flesh, bone, and blood. He had seen it all before. He had seen all this shit before. This was fucking hell. Why did this glimpse behind the door make him so sick, why did the memory rock him? Oh fuck… the sauce… the meat. He felt sick. 

It was nearly a century ago, but he felt sick.

Sick.

He wobbled on his feet clutching his head. “Smiles, fuck,” he groaned. “I—“

“Oh for hell’s sake, may we PLEASE postpone this argument for a time when you are sober, mon Amour?” Alastor shouted, sounding exasperated. 

“No! Carry me home, ya fuckin asshole! And ya gonna walk and we’re gonna argue the WHOLE fuckin way ta the hotel!” Angel returned with a snapping tone, but it had a little less impact than he preferred because his knees buckled.

Alastor caught him, scooped him up bridal style, and began to carry him back to the hotel. 

Silence.

A cold, resounding silence. 

“Ya said… ya said ya had been in love before,” Angel whispered. “Ha, fuck, Smiles. Ya fuckin asshole.” He buried his face into the Radio Demon’s shoulder. “And ya switched the bowls of pasta cause ya knew I was gonna try ta put ya ta sleep...”

“Well yes, but you once again caught me off guard,” Alastor said with a pause. “I didn’t expect you to drug everyone, my dear. Quite wicked. And so you left me the second time with the very same trick you pulled the first.”

Shackled. Blindfolded. Branded.

Screaming for more.

Angel winced and closed his eyes, feeling the soft bounce of each step and the comforting lull of the music wrapping around him. The had to fight about this. They had to… but he was so very tired. Just… dead tired. 

“You lied to me,” Angel finally said.

Alastor’s ears twitched. “You did not ask. I did not lie.”

“It was a lie of omission!” Was this fucker seriously going to play that shit with him right now? Fucking seriously?

“Agree to disagree.”

“No!” Angel sat up in the Radio Demon’s arms, glaring at him. He would not be gaslit into believing he was being irrational about this shit. It didn’t matter that he wanted to throw up and curl up in a ball, they were going to have this fucking argument. “You were a monster I repressed!”

“I was the man who loved you best!” Alastor shot back, rolling his eyes. However, his ears flattened.

“I cooked... I cooked... I cook— oh god I feel sick.” His stomach lurched. Sick. So fucking sick.

“Anthony!” Alastor’s voice was sharp, bordering on the edge of hysteria. Still panicked? Why? “You know this about me now. You fell in love with me AGAIN knowing what I am.” The arms holding Angel seemed to tighten around him, an iron grip unbending. 

“Ya MADE me an accessory.” Even after he left the mafia, he couldn’t escape horror. He danced right into a fucking psychopath’s arms and then ran back to New York City a broken mess just a year later. He had… forgotten, pushed back the reason for going home to the recesses of his mind. 

“Oh for hell’s sake, you were in the MAFIA.” Alastor was arguing with him, but Angel couldn’t make much sense of it. Now what did THAT have to do with anything?

“I was a killer not a murderer.” Angel said with a blink.

“It’s just the same.”

This mother fucker.

“It’s not the same! You know it’s not the same!” Angel sank his teeth into one of the red fluffy poofs, hissing. How dare he even suggest those two things were anywhere close to eachother!

Alastor balked. “Anthony! Look at where we are, you and I together! You still think you’re better than me? We are here in the exact same place for a reason.” His deer ear was bleeding, but the blood was black and Angel regretted biting it. He pulled red fur out of his own mouth, making a face. Ew.

“Fuck, Smiles. How long have ya fuckin known?” He said with a sigh. Silence. A long, drawn out silence.. “Oh, so now ya have nothin ta fuckin’ say?”

“Anthony...”

“Yeah?”

“Please, do not leave me again.” Not a command. Not a threat. Alastor was pleading. Angel decided he liked that, but he couldn’t quite understand why Al was pleading in the first place. Did he really think…

“Wait? What? Al, oh...oh holy shit!” Angel couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s why ya’ve been such a fuckin nutjob? Oh fa fucks sake, Al, I’m not fuckin leavin ya ova’ this!” 

Alastor stared at him, a bemused expression on his face, as if he were trying to calculate the answer of a difficult equation or solve a baffling riddle. Finally, he simply said, “You’re... not? You’re not leaving me?”

“No.”

“But…” A sigh, a pause, and a squint of those red eyes. “Is this a trick?”

“No! Fuck, Al. It was like... almost a fuckin’ century ago.” Angel settled back down in the Radio demon’s arms, enjoying the strangely quick beat of his heart. “It ain’t like I wasn’t inta ya back then neitha’. Just, ya know, ya was a serial killer and shit and that was fuckin scary. I’ve seen scarier shit since. It’s been a long time, Al, and I was happy with ya fa that little while.”

“So you’re not angry then?” Alastor finally said. 

“No, Al, I’m still fuckin pissed. Of course I’m fuckin pissed.” Exasperating. This deer fuck was exasperatin’ him. “Al... do ya know why I’m pissed?”

“Because I made you an accessory to serial murder and canniba—“

“No dumbass! I’m pissed ‘cause ya kept shit from me!” Angel said, lightly punching his shoulder. “Ya know what, I think I’m the fuckin smart one in this relationship. I’m claimin’ the title. Fuck you. I’m the smart one.”

A long silence.

And then laughter. A concert of loud, raucous laughter, canned and authentic combined. Crazed. Uncontrolled. Alastor shook with it. He nearly toppled them both laughing… and laughing… and laughing.

“Mon Amour,” he finally said between little chuckles as a confused and slightly concerned Angel Dust wiped the tears of mirth from his cheeks. “I think you might be the MAD one in this relationship.”

They smiled at each other, both turning to look at their destination, the Hazbin Hotel. There would be fights abound, certainly, and Angel had a feeling he would be in a constant tug of war with Alastor trying to protect Charlie from his bullshit antics, but…

They were gonna be okay. 

Life goes around and around

…and around.

———

Author’s Note: Kudos and Review if you enjoyed this work of mine!

Who knows, in the future I might have a couple oneshot offshoots from this story. Perhaps a flashback to 1931 New Orleans, maybe the wedding, a sexy fight, or Alastor deciding he and Angel are going to overtake Vox and Valentino as the overlords of Media and Lust. Ya know, so many possibilities. But for now I shall let this marinate and be thrilled I was able to finally get the story on the page :D!


	15. Epilogue: Outside Looking In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie walks in on Angel and Alastor fighting again. Angel is crying. She’s able to convince him to sleep apart from Alastor for the night. Alastor is... well, have a look and see.

Authors Note: 😐 I have no words. I just... I meant to stop for a while... really I did... I have a sequel in mind and I was going to WAIT until later to play with these characters again. I was gonna wait until the sequel. Give myself a breather. Not touch this subject matter for a while. And then I wrote this epilogue. I have NO self control. -throws phone- None! 

So here’s, I don’t know, a bonus chapter or whatever. 

Don’t judge me

——

Epilogue 

For a while Charlie kept a running tally of all the hotel furnishings Angel and Alastor destroyed during their many… quarrels. Chandeliers shattered, countertops cracked, windows splintered, vases broken, fists punched into walls, bullet holes, apocalyptic level destructive outbursts… the hotel had seen it all… and that was just from the two of them. However, when the lists outgrew her binder, she stopped keeping track. After all, Alastor was always quick to repair any damages and then some, but it still…

It didn’t seem very healthy.

Lately, Angel mentioned things to her in passing… troubling things. If he had a little too much to drink or felt particularly amiable towards her, he would over-share, and the information he divulged about his relationship with the Radio Demon often had her wishing she had listened to Vaggie about shutting the door in his face. Alastor seemed so charming and gentlemanly at times, but the things Angel said… they made her sick to her stomach with anxiety.

“Ya know, it turns out we knew each other way back when. Aint that a hoot, Charlie? He was my fella fa a whole year back then and I repressed the whole fuckin thing,” Angel said to her one day on the balcony while taking a deep drag of a red cigarette. He blew a plume of neon green fog into the air that twisted itself into rivers and swamps. A bayou of smoke. She stood beside him, smiling and nodding with goodhearted interest, and he continued, “Guess the mind can’t handle thinkin’ ‘bout rooms full of corpses… or bein’ tricked into makin’ meatballs outta human flesh. Ha! So fucked up. Al says he woulda chased afta’ me when I left him but, ya know, it was 1932 and back then a person could just disappear real easy like. He didn’t know where I was goin and he couldn’t exactly alert the authorities about his cross dressin’ run away boy toy. He caught me the first time I tried ta run, ta be fair. Apparently I didn’t make it more than 100 yards away from his place before he got me. Shackled, blindfolded and branded me. That’s why I still got a heart on my chest in my fur. Cute huh?”

How do you tell someone you care about that they need to seek therapy immediately and leave their fiancé? Charlie thought she knew the answer, but now she wasn’t exactly sure. Nothing she thought would work had any effect. She had tried interventions, tried calling Angel’s friend Cherri, tried logic and pleading… but the two men were inseparable, and with each new revelation out of Angel’s mouth her horror grew. 

“Al really wants ta set a date fa the wedding. He says ‘the sooner the better’. I just dunno,” Angel had said to her the other day while painting his fingernails a shade of familiar crimson on the living room couch. She didn’t bother to ask why he was in the living room. It was, after all, the only room with a television, though she suspected Alastor would eventually destroy it. Her chest had soared with hope at Angel’s confession. Maybe he was seeing sense and would call off the wedding! But then he kept talking, “I mean, honestly, I’d skip all the bullshit and marry him right now. Go down ta pentagram city hall and sign whateva the fuck he wants. I ain’t inta all this fancy bullshit… I mean, I feel like even though he wants a ‘soon’ wedding, Al also wants a BIG wedding. He’s got pals and fans who actually respect him, and in comparison… well, I got you guys, of course, and I’ve got Cherri, but that’s really all. There ain’t anyone else I know that I’d want there. My creepy old fans ain’t people I’d want pesterin’ my fella. I just don’t know what ta tell him.”

Don’t get married. Don’t get married. For the love of all that is good, DO NOT get married. Charlie wanted to scream the words and shake Angel. She believed in happy endings and second chances. Third chances. Fourth chances. FIFTH chances even. However, this relationship of theirs was driving everyone in the hotel to the edge of insanity. The constant arguing, the fighting, the manipulating, and oh all the weird loud sex! It was too much. 

Today’s escapade was the last straw for her psyche. It sent her past her breaking point. She walked in on the two men arguing again, and saw that Angel, arms wrapped protectively around himself, had begun to…cry.

Angel… crying. 

“What’s going on here?” she asked, storming over to the two men and wedging herself between the Radio Demon and Angel Dust. She didn’t care that she was smaller than both of them, she would unleash every ounce of Demon power in her body to protect Angel from Alastor and himself. 

“Ah, Charlie, my charming Demon gal. What a pleasure it is to see you at this very inopportune and private moment!” Alastor chimed, all cheer and sarcasm combined. “I’m afraid my darling and I are currently embroiled in a disagreement of sorts, but never you mind any of that. We will come to a head and I am certain he will see sense. Now, no need to worry about our affairs. Please be on your merry way!”

Charlie puffed up as much as she could manage, glared Alastor down, and said, “Angel, would you like to move to a separate room for the night?” The words came out fast but firm.

She had once thought Alastor’s teeth couldn’t look any sharper than the moment she saw his other form that one horrible time after Angel drugged the sauce. She now thought they looked at least comparable in this moment.

“Y-yeah, Charlie,” Angel said softly after a moments consideration. “Th-thanks.” 

If looks could kill, she’d be in double hell. . 

“No,” Alastor said firmly and curtly, all smiles.

“Yes.” Charlie shot back. She put a smile on his face as well, a facsimile of pleasantness. 

Alastor looked at Angel, tilting his head just slightly to his side. She didn’t know if he was trying to intimidate Angel Dust with that look. Really she couldn’t tell. The two of them could be so confusing when they were together— impossible to read, but Alastor did finally shrug his shoulders after what felt like a full 60 seconds and say, “Very well.” Despite his light tone, everything about him suddenly seemed so tightly strung, like a violin chord ready to snap at any second. 

Charlie had this feeling, though she didn’t want to believe it were possible, that if she simply put Angel in a different room for the night, Alastor would let himself right in and might do unspeakable things to the spider. 

She smiled up at Angel, doing her very best to subtly steer him away from his silently fuming fiancé, though she suspected it was anything but subtle by the static buzz in the air. “I have… a talisman for the inside of the door. Something from my dad. It can… keep out even top tier overlords,” she whispered. 

“Holy shit. Fa real, Toots?” Angel said, glancing back at the Radio Demon with uncertain eyes that gradually hardened with determination. “Thanks, Charlie. I owe ya one. I think the both of us could use a bit of a break from each other. Cool our heads, ya know.” He wiped a tear from his cheek with his sleeve and Charlie felt her heart ache for him. 

He just needed a gentle nudge in the right direction.

Maybe someday he and Alastor could learn to be great friends instead of incompatible combustable lovers! Maybe they could find people who made them both smile all the time and filled their lives with sunshine and rainbows like Vaggie did for her. Maybe they just needed space.

She heard the shouting and cursing at midnight and knew Alastor had tried, and failed, to teleport into the room. What she didn’t expect was the sharp, rhythmic knock on her bedroom door that followed.

Vaggie sat up, long tangled hair standing in every direction and eyes hazy with sleep. “What the hell… don’t tell me he’s seriously here to confront you about this, that manipulative scheming asshole.” She felt around aimlessly for her spear. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Vaggie, no!”

“Just a little chat…” she said, finding and gripping the spear.

“He’s just a bit upset. Let me talk to him. I’m sure I can smooth all this over in no time.” Charlie slid out of the bed hastily and hurried to the door, swinging it open and darting out before Vaggie could protest. “Alastor—“

“Remove it.” Was all Alastor said, a sharp-toothed grin spread across his features. 

“I think—“

“Charlie, this is not any of your affair, not any of your business, and not any of your concern! Really now, this a complete and utter over reaction to a personal argument between myself and my fiancé that you never should have heard in the first place. He needs me, my dear. He won’t sleep a wink without me and he’ll be tossing and turning all night in distress. Oh for goodness sake, just let me in that room.” He spoke so quickly and brightly that she almost missed the venom lacing the words.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Angel is the only one who can take it down.” She said, shrugging.

Alastor tilted his head to one side, a little too far for comfort. His smile twitched. “Ha! How unfortunate!” Then he turned on his heel and stormed off.

Charlie considered letting him go, especially when Vaggie popped her head around the door and raised her eyebrows in expectant curiosity. She could go back into that room to cuddle and chat with her loving girlfriend. She sighed. “He just stormed off. I’m gonna follow him. I’m… worried.”

“Charlie, he’s—“

“I know he’s a little… easily agitated. I just want to check and make sure he isn’t doing something stupid. Stay here. It’ll be fine, babe.” Vaggie needed a bit of convincing, but she was able to eventually talk her girlfriend into letting her check on the Radio Demon alone. She found Alastor at the bar, drinking heavily. Husk rolled his eyes at her when she approached and gave a little shrug, pouring him another glass of something that looked dark and strong. “Al, what are you doing?”

“Waiting, Charlie. I’m waiting,” Alastor said, glancing at a clock. “One more hour at most before he opens that ridiculous door. I tell you, Charlie, you have cause me quite an inconvenience tonight.” He tossed back the drink, gulping it down like a man dying of thirst. “Another, Husker, if you please.”

“Yeah yeah. I gotcha covered,” Husk grumbled, sliding another glass towards Alastor with a flick of his tail. Alastor glared over the glass. “No need to look at me so pissy. Ain’t my fault you fucked up with your “mrs.” again.”

“I did not fuck up. I was perfectly in the right and he might have seen sense if Charlie had not come and intervened.” Alastor said, slamming his drink down with a bit more force than necessary, perky smile unwavering.

Charlie sighed, taking a seat on the bar stool beside him. “Al,” she said. “He was crying.”

Alastor paused. “Charlie… it was a touchy subject, and that’s all I’ll say on the matter.” Another drink down the hatch. Charlie thought to herself that she had never seen the Radio Demon drink so much so fast. He paused for a long while, only speaking again after another drink when his eyes had begun to glaze. “I was only trying to protect him.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dammit. He was crying… Mon Ange.” 

“Mon Ange? I’ve heard you say that before,” Charlie said quietly. “What does it mean?”

“Ah,” Alastor’s smile softened as he looked faraway into the bronze liquid of his glass, as if seeing something past the bubbles and shifting shadows within. What did he see, she wondered. “My Angel. It just means My Angel. I used to call him that…”

“When you both were alive?” She interjected. She almost smacked her hand over her own mouth. Oh, right, she wasn’t supposed to know.

Alastor froze.

A long pause.

He threw back the drink and gestured for another. He appeared tired, leaning somewhat against the bar. Shoulders sagging as the alcohol lowered his guard steadily. “Yes, Charlie. Yes. Before he was hell’s infamous Angel Dust he was… Anthony and Mon Ange. Ah, but the way you look at me tells me you already know the story and I am the wicked and terrible villain in your eyes. Well, I won’t disagree. But I did love him and I still do and you don’t know the whole story... it’s little dark, yes, but… there is a lot of love there, Charlie. You don’t know the whole story…”

“Sometimes loving things means setting them free—“

A sharp abrupt laugh. Alastor looked at her, still chuckling. “No. Charlie, no. That will never happen. Very nice try and very prettily said. I commend you, but no.”

“Al, you two fight all the time. You hurt each other. You play mind games with each other. You—“. 

“Oh, Charlie. I don’t think you understand. We both ENJOY that. We enjoy the bickering, the fighting, the feuding, the grappling for power, the mind games, and the, as Angel calls it, “drama”. He says we are “drama queens”. I can’t disagree. We ENJOY all of it, Charlie.” Alastor laughed, shaking his head at her baffled expression. “We wouldn’t keep doing it if we weren’t having, well, fun. Ah, but I do promise I will always pay for the damages or fix them instantaneously wherever possible.”

“Al, it doesn’t sound fun for Angel. Today he was crying… and he told me… about the past…what you did.”

“Today was not about fun, Charlie. That was a genuine fight wherein I was genuinely concerned for his safety and well being. And as I said, you don’t know the whole story about the past. I will only tell you, and I do not enjoy divulging personal information about my sex life, that it was mostly consensual, aside from the initial shackling.”

“Mostly?”

“Recently I have been worried that it was dubiously granted, given the situational stressor that might have skewed his ability to give consent, but Angel contends, now that he remembers, that it was indeed consensual. I had not planned to go further than restraining him, but he… took greater enjoyment out of being bound up than either of us anticipated. And I would have done anything he asked to keep him… he begged for more and more and more. It was lovely, Charlie. Fantastic. But, ultimately, it filled him self loathing knowing that he… with a serial killer… a monster… and… ah, but the past is in the past.”

Alastor sighed, glancing at the clock and swirling his drink quietly. Charlie didn’t quite understand it, this strange and uncomfortable dynamic that the two men seemed to have, but seeing Alastor looking so… tired and frazzled, made her wonder if perhaps, just maybe… they would be okay together. Maybe Al could change for Angel. Maybe?

Or was that just her hoping inside every Demon was a rainbow?

She saw Alastor’s ears twitch before she heard the soft patter of footsteps approaching them. No. No it couldn’t be.. he wouldn’t cave halfway through the night, would he?

“Angel, mon Amour! Je veux embrasser tes lèvres et tes seins!” Alastor slurred in French, looking up at the approaching spider with a dazed grin. 

Angel, bags under his eyes and dressed in soft pink shorts, looked between them with confusion before smiling apologetically at Charlie. He seemed tired. Restless. Stressed. He moved slowly, limbs heavy. “Al, you’re fuckin drunk,” he said with a laugh. “Fuck, Charlie, I’m sorry. He musta been talkin your ear off. Come on handsome. Let’s get ya ta bed.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Charlie said. “You… couldn’t sleep?”

Angel shook his head, walking over to the two of them and chuckling a bit when Alastor’s strong slim arms wrapped around him, red head resting against the fluff of his chest. He sighed, stroking the plumes of red fur that were Alastor’s ears. “Don’t worry about us, Charlie,” he said. “We’re gonna be alright. This fella of mine, I love him, and I can’t really sleep without him. Don’t feel right anymore.”

“What about taking a break… your fight seemed—“

“Yeah, well, I got ta thinkin about it, and ya know what, the truth is this cocky asshole of mine was right,” Angel said wrapping all four of his arms around the Radio Demon, all warmth and affection as Alastor, in his drunken and drowsy state, began to doze against the pillow of his chest. “I don’t owe my father nothin’. And that bastard sendin his fuckin goons my way with a job, talkin ‘bout “loyalty” and “family” is real fuckin rich comin from him. Al thought it was probably a trap, and even if it wasn’t… I woulda gotten hurt. Al was right… my ma woulda wanted me ta stay away from my father, no matter what that bastard says or promises. I just didn’t wanna hear it. False hope, ya know? It’ll do that ta ya.” Angel sighed, shaking his head, as if to clear it. “I don’t need ta be accepted back inta the worst parts of the family I left behind. Al and I are gonna make our own family. Come on, handsome. I gotcha—“

She watched Angel help Alastor quietly up the stairs. Their soft chuckles and shushes as they rounded the corner, the sound of teasing banter and a few kisses.

Oh…oh…

She saw it now. 

The rainbow. 

Maybe they would be okay together after all. Maybe.

————

Kudos and Review if you enjoy! 💕😂

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Updates and general nonsense, feel free to follow me on Twitter @LadyInStarlight


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